Weasley Girl
by Hyaroo
Summary: We all know the stories that ask "What if Harry Potter was a girl," right? But what if Ron Weasley was a girl? Imagine that the first person Harry befriends on the Hogwarts Express is not Ronald Weasley, but Veronica "Ronnie" Weasley, first born daughter of the Weasley clan for generations... what might happen then?
1. Veronica Weasley

**So many stories have asked the question: "What if Harry Potter was a girl?" Few stories, however, seem to bother with the question "What if _Ron Weasley_ was a girl?" So, just to be contrary, this story will. Everyone else here is going to be their canon genders, but Ron's going to be a girl, and then we'll see how this might change the story.****  
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**WEASLEY GIRL**

**Based on the _Harry Potter_ books by J. K. Rowling****  
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**CHAPTER ONE:  
Veronica Weasley  
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" - packed with Muggles, of course -"

Harry turned around to see a plump, red-haired woman talking to five children, three boys and two girls, and all of them with the same flaming red hair. Each of them, apart from the smallest girl, was pushing a trunk like Harry's - and (Harry's heart almost skipped a beat when he saw this) on one of the carts, in a cage much like Hedwig's, an _owl _was sitting on its perch and looking out at its surroundings.

The mother - she had to be their mother - was chatting away, and so none of them seemed to notice when Harry, heart hammering, pushed his cart after them, making sure to stay just close enough that he'd hear what they were saying.

"Now, what's the platform number?" said the mother.

The smallest girl (who looked rather minuscule next to the others) looked like she was about to answer, but the tallest girl answered first. "Nine-and-three-quarters, Mum," she said. "It's always been nine-and-three-quarters. It hasn't changed just because I'm going this year. It was nine-and-three-quarters last year, and the year before, and it was nine-and-three-quarters the year before that, and the year before _that _-"

"Congratulations, dear sister, you pass the memory test," said one of the boys.

"Now comes the big question," said his brother (the two looked completely identical; Harry guessed they must be twins). "Did you remember to pack your dolly and your blankie? You're going to be all alone in your dormitory, you know, no Mum or Dad to run to if you have a nightmare -"

"I'll give _you _a nightmare!" the dear sister hissed, clenching her fists.

"Stop it, all three of you!" said the mother firmly.

"I still think it's unfair that I'm not going," said the smallest girl.

"How d'you think I feel, Ginny?" said the taller one rather sourly. _"You're_ at least gonna be home with Scabbers, you'll have some decent company. Look what _I'm_ supposed to have for company."

Unexpectedly, the twins laughed.

"You know, we can't argue with that," said one. "If I had to choose between the two of us and a pet rat who only wakes up once a decade, I'd choose the rat too."

"Our dear little sister's starting to show some wisdom at last," said the other, pretending to wipe a tear off his cheek. "They grow up so fast."

"Percy," said the mother, interrupting them in order to address the tallest boy (a rather pompous-looking bloke wearing horn-rimmed glasses). "You go first."

Percy, who hadn't said anything so far, nodded and marched towards platforms nine and ten. Harry watched him carefully - but as bad luck would have it, just as the boy reached the barrier between the two platforms, a large crowd of tourists walked past, obscuring Harry's view. It only took ten seconds or so for them to pass, but it was enough; when they'd passed, the boy had vanished.

"Fred, you next," said the woman, completely undisturbed by the fact that one of her sons had vanished.

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," said the closest twin. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother, can't you tell I'm - _Ow!_ Ronnie, quit it, I still have a bruise there!" He rubbed the arm his sister had poked.

"That proves you're Fred, then," said the girl sweetly. "George doesn't have that bruise. Told you I'd get you back."

The boy - who by all accounts had to be Fred - sighed dramatically. "Sisters. No respect at all for the delivery of a good joke. Mum, be honest, she's adopted, isn't she?"

"Don't be silly, Fred," said the woman, shaking her head. "Go on, off you go."

"All right, but I thought you'd know by now that asking me not to be silly is like asking Ginny to be tall!" With that (and accompanied by a yelp of protest from the smallest girl), Fred took his cart and pushed off towards the platform barrier. This time, Harry was determined to keep his eyes peeled to see where he went, but... all of a sudden, the boy was just gone, just like his brother, and Harry couldn't tell where he'd gone off to at all.

Now the third brother took his cart and went off in the same direction - and then he, too, was nowhere to be seen.

Harry gathered up his courage and stepped closer to the plump woman. "Er, excuse me," he said.

She turned around and gave him a warm smile. "Hello, dear," she said. "First time at Hogwarts, is it? It's Ronnie's first time as well." She motioned to her older daughter, who was almost half a head taller than Harry but just as skinny - which combined with her long hair and mass of freckles gave her an awkward, almost comical, look.

"Yes," said Harry, feeling both relieved that it seemed he wouldn't have to explain himself, and surprised that the tall girl was no older than him. "The thing is - the thing is, I don't know how to -"

"How to get onto the platform?" she said kindly. "Not to worry. All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, go now before Ronnie."

"Er - okay," said Harry.

He pushed his trolley around and began walking towards the extremely solid-looking barrier.

People went past him, jostling him as he sped up, getting closer and closer to the barrier. He pushed on, and the heavy cart went faster and faster, the barrier rushing towards him, and he closed his eyes, bracing himself for the unavoidable crash -

- except the crash never came.

When he opened his eyes again, he was met by the sight of a scarlet steam engine waiting next to a platform packed with people, adults and children, most of them dressed in the kind of wizard-style clothes he'd seen back at Diagon Alley, a lot of them hauling carts and trunks just like his. Cats of all colours and sizes were slinking about between the people, owls were hooting, and Harry could even hear the odd toad croaking. Overhead, a sign proudly declared that this was the Hogwarts Express, due to leave at eleven o' clock, and as Harry turned back to look at where the barrier had been, he saw only a wrought-iron archway with the words _Platform Nine and Three-Quarters_ on it.

He'd made it.

Harry allowed himself a brief moment of relief and awe before he began pushing his cart off down the platform. The first few carriages on the train were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats... Harry kept walking, past laughing students and crying parents, past a round-faced boy who was telling his grandmother he'd lost his toad, past a tall boy with dreadlocks who seemed to be carrying some kind of monster spider in a box. There had to be an available seat somewhere on this train, right?

Finally, near the end of the train, he found an empty compartment, and could begin unloading his things. Hedwig's cage was easy enough to get onto the train, but the trunk proved worse; it was extremely heavy, and while he could haul it around all right, lifting it up to get it inside the train door proved near-impossible.

"Hey, need a hand with that?" Harry turned to see the red-haired girl from before - Ronnie, wasn't it? - standing next to him.

"Er -" Harry hesitated. Somehow, it didn't seem right to ask for help from a girl, even one that was big for her age and taller than him. But Ronnie, without asking further, reached down to try and haul the trunk up onto the steps - "tried" being the key word, because though she grunted and strained and managed to lift the truck a little higher than Harry had, she had no more luck than he had in hauling it all the way up to the steps.

For a moment, Harry just stood and watched her in amazement. Then, a pang of guilt hit him because he was letting her fight with his truck all alone, and he grabbed the other side of the trunk to help lift it.

Together, they managed to haul the heavy trunk up on the first step. Panting heavily, Ronnie grinned at Harry with an expression of pride on her face - an expression that vanished very quickly as she looked at the steps and realised there were two _more _of them. "Blimey," she panted. "What have you got in that trunk? Solid gold bars?"

"Er, no, I -" Harry began.

"Never mind. We need more help," said the girl, taking a few deep breaths and then turning to call: "Hey - Fred, George - over here!"

Seconds later, the twins appeared. The family resemblance was clear; they had the same red hair, the same blue eyes, the same freckles, and even the same open, easy-going looks on their faces. Of course, the twins, while not much taller than their sister, were notably stockier and sturdier-looking - and luckily they didn't need any convincing in order to lend a hand.

Between the four of them, they managed to get the trunk into the compartment and stocked away into the corner.

"Thanks," Harry panted, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

The three siblings suddenly stared at him. It took perhaps a second before Harry realised that they were staring at his lightning-bolt scar.

"Blimey!" said one of the twins. "Are you -?"

"He is," said the second twin. "Aren't you?"

"Er, aren't I what?" said Harry, feeling a little confused.

"_Harry Potter!"_ said Ronnie, looking awestruck.

"Oh, him. Er, I mean, yes, I am," said Harry, and felt himself turning red as they gawked at him.

Just then, to his enormous relief, the sound of their mother's voice came from outside. "Fred! George! Ronnie! Are you there?"

"Coming, Mum!"

With a last lingering look at him, the three redheads exited the compartment and went outside to join their mother.

Harry sat down by the window, where, half-hidden, he could watch the red-haired family on the platform and witness what had to be the last family farewell. Ronnie looked slightly uncomfortable as her mother hugged her tightly and called her _"my little girl" _(which was a little funny, because Ronnie was almost as tall as her brothers), but the twins were joking and laughing, and completely dismissing their mother's warning that they'd better behave themselves this year - and as the third brother, Percy, showed up, already dressed up in the flowing black Hogwarts robes and a red and gold badge with the letter _P_ on his chest, they spent a bit of time teasing him for taking such obvious pride in having been made a Prefect.

He probably shouldn't be spying on them like this, Harry realised, but it was, well, nice to see what looked like a completely normal family. They were bickering and teasing one another, true, but it wasn't like he was used to with the Dursleys. There was such an easy-going and unspoken fondness between them, easily visible behind the arguing, that Harry found himself rather liking this family, even if he didn't know them.

"Hey Mum, guess what?" one of the twins suddenly said. "Guess who we met on the train? You know that black-haired boy who was near us in the station? Know who he is?"

"Who?"

_"Harry Potter!"_

"He was the bloke I went to help with his trunk," Ronnie murmured.

"Oh, why didn't you call for me too?" said her little sister, looking betrayed. "I wanted to see him as well!"

"Didn't know it was him, did I?"

"You already saw him, Ginny," said the mother. "The poor boy isn't something you goggle at in a zoo. How do you know he's Harry Potter, Fred?"

"Asked him. Saw his scar, It's really there - like lightning."

"Poor dear - no wonder he was alone. I wondered. He was ever so polite when he asked how to get onto the platform -"

"Never mind that, do you think he remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?"

Their mother looked sternly at the twin who had said this. "I _forbid _you to ask him, Fred! No, you don't dare! As though he needs reminding of that on his first day at school."

"All right, keep your hair on."

"Good! And you watch out for of your sister, you hear?"

"Mum, I'll be fine," said Ronnie. "I'm going to _school,_ not to_ war."_

"Oh, I don't know," said one of the twins. "The two things have quite a bit in common if you ask me."

The conversation might have gone on longer, but now a whistle sounded, and the mother ushered her children towards the train, telling them to hurry up. A lot of hugs and kisses were exchanged, Ronnie picked up her younger sister and spun her around, and then everyone who was going on the train was onboard, and the train began to move.

From his place by the window, Harry could see the mother waving and the smallest sister running along by the train, laughing and crying at the same time.

The train rounded a corner, and picked up speed; houses were flashing by faster and faster, and Harry felt a thrill. He was really going. It was really happening.

The door to the compartment opened, and Ronnie peeked in. For some reason, she looked a little shyer now than she had, but she still smiled at him. "Hello again," she said. "Er - I don't have anywhere else to sit. You don't mind if I -?"

"Er - yeah. I mean, no. I mean - I don't mind!" said Harry, and Ronnie gratefully slid down in the seat opposite him. She met his eyes, smiled nervously, and then became very interested in Hedwig, who was still sitting in her cage and watching the newcomer with interest.

"Oh, is this your owl?" she said, looking at Hedwig with adoring eyes.

"Er, yes," said Harry. "Her name is Hedwig."

"Oh, she's beautiful - hello there, girl!" Ronnie cooed at the cage. Hedwig watched her through the bars of the cage and let out a friendly-sounding hoot, of the kind she usually greeted Harry with, and closed her eyes in satisfaction as the girl carefully stuck a finger into the cage and stroking her feathers lightly.

The door opened again, and the twins peeked in.

"Hey, Ron," said one of them. "Already making friends with the local wildlife, are you? Listen, we're going to the middle of the train. Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

Ronnie, alias Ron, pulled slightly away from Hedwig's cage and and opened her mouth to say something - but then apparently thought better of it, as she flopped back down in her seat and murmured "Right, then."

"Harry," said the other twin, "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is our little sister, Veronica. Try anything unseemly with her, and you answer to us." (This last bit was, it must be admitted, delivered with a smile and a wink, so Harry wasn't particularly intimidated - but Ron, alias Ronnie, _alias _Veronica, turned a bright shade of pink and glared at her brother.) "See you later, then."

The door closed again, and Veronica turned back to Harry. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, and then took a deep breath. "One of these days, I'm going to kill them, I swear," she said.

"It's okay - they were joking," said Harry. "They _were _joking, right?"

"Yeah, but still," Veronica sighed. "My sister Ginny and I are the only girls in the family, and we're the youngest, so they think they have to play bodyguards for us. When they're not teasing us for being _girls_, that is. I hate it."

"I wouldn't know, I've never had siblings," said Harry, who wouldn't count Dudley as a sibling if his life depended on it. "Wish I had three brothers that were wizards."

"Five brothers, actually," said Veronica. "Bill and Charlie's left Hogwarts already - thank goodness, or I'd have _five _bodyguards at school. It'll be enough with Percy, Fred and George. And poor Ginny's going to be all alone at home..." She paused and blinked, as if suddenly remembering something. "You're _really _Harry Potter!" she blurted out.

"Er... yes, I think we've established that by now," said Harry, wondering how many times they were going to go through this.

Veronica's pink colouring had begun to fade, but now it came back, full-force. "I'm - I'm sorry," she said. "It's just that I've heard stories about you all my life, and - you probably have girls gawking at you all the time."

"No, not really," said Harry.

"No?" Veronica looked like she didn't think that was even remotely possible, but then a look of understanding dawned on her face. "Oh, right - you were sent to live with Muggles, weren't you? Of course they wouldn't know - What are they like?"

"Terrible," said Harry. "Well, not all Muggles are terrible, but my aunt and uncle and cousin are."

"Oh." Veronica was silent for a second or two. "I'm sorry," she said.

"What for?"

"For - you know. Everything. Your parents dying. You having to live with terrible Muggles."

"But that wasn't your fault!"

"No, but -" She looked like she was grasping for words. "Everyone talks about you, you know? How if it wasn't for you, You-Know-Who would have killed us all. And - well - your parents died for it, and - that's terrible," she finished sheepishly.

An uncomfortable silence spread in the compartment, and Veronica, still that bright colour of pink, studied her fingernails.

"I don't even remember any of it," Harry finally said. "Just a flash of green light, and then - nothing. And now I'm supposed to be something special, and everyone knows my name, and I don't know anything. I bet -" he said, and this was something he'd been thinking of for a long time, "I bet I'm going to be the worst in the class!"

Veronica looked up again. "Oh, you won't be," she said. "Loads of people come from Muggle families, and they learn quick enough. Hey," she added, suddenly looking a bit happier, "why don't we go have a look at Lee Jordan's tarantula?"

"Er," said Harry. "You really want to?"

"Yeah, why not? It might cheer us up. You're not afraid of spiders, are you?"

"I'm used to them," Harry answered, thinking of the spiders in the cupboard back at Privet Drive. He looked over at Hedwig's cage, but the owl had fallen asleep and would probably not miss them if they went off for just a little while. "Yeah, all right then."

"Cool." Veronica raised herself, and then, after a moment's hesitation, held out her hand. "Might as well introduce myself properly," she said. "Veronica Weasley. Just call me Ronnie, or Ron. Everyone does."

Harry raised himself as well. "Harry Potter," he said. "Just call me, er, Harry."

They shook hands and smiled to one another.

"I think I'd like to have a spider as a pet," said Ronnie as she moved towards the door. "Just to be different, you know. Of course, what I'd _really _like is an owl, like Hedwig, but Percy got one from Mum and Dad for being a Prefect, and they couldn't aff - I mean, there are owls at school, if I need to send a letter I'll just borrow one of those. Percy said I could have his old rat, Scabbers, but he doesn't seem to like me all that much, so I gave him to Ginny instead, that way she'll at least have some company while I'm gone -"

She kept talking as they made their way through the corridor of the moving train. As they moved past the compartments, students turned their head and looked at them - and in some cases, one of the students took an extra look at Harry, got very excited and began pointing at him. Harry wasn't quite sure how he felt about this, so he decided to ignore it.

"Here we are," Ronnie finally said, pointing to one compartment. Through the windows, Harry could easily make out Fred and George Weasley, and the dreadlock-haired boy he'd seen on the platform. There were several other students in there as well, mostly boys but also a couple of girls, all of them looking to be about the twins' age or older.

Ronnie walked up to the door and opened it. The students in the compartment all stopped their conversation and turned their heads to look at her.

"What's up, Ron?" said one of the twins. "Anyone being mean to you?"

"No, you git," said Ronnie. "Harry and I want to look at Lee's tarantula."

The word _"Harry"_ got the attentions of all the people present, and they all looked past Ronnie and over to Harry. Before he knew it, both he and Ronnie were inside the compartment, and he was surrounded by people who wanted to greet him.

It was like the Leaky Cauldron all over again, but as he found out, the students were a lot less inclined to tell him what an honour it was and a lot more inclined to ask questions.

"Is it true about You-Know-Who?"

"D'you remember anything at all?"

"Does that scar hurt?"

"What House do you think you'll be in?"

"Do you play Quidditch?"

Harry tried to answer all the questions best as he could, but the sad fact was that most of the questions were of the kind he didn't know the answer to. When he admitted he didn't know anything about Quidditch, this caused an explosion of disbelieving gasps, followed up by a torrent of explanations of the sport, the four balls, the broomsticks, the teams, the different players and their tasks, It was all very interesting, but when a discussion broke out among the Weasley twins and the rest about which player was the most important one, and which team had the best Seeker, Harry found that he couldn't follow it any longer.

Ronnie met his eyes, looking both guilty and annoyed, moving up to him and lowering her voice. "Sorry about this," she murmured. "Should have realized..."

Harry shook his head. "It's okay, it's just... weird."

"Quidditch is not weird!" said a tall, burly boy whose name, Harry remembered, was Oliver Wood. "It's the best sport in the world! I'm Captain of the Gryffindor team, you know! The best Quidditch team at Hogwarts, which is just fitting for the best school house at Hogwarts!"

Harry nodded, adding _"Gryffindor"_ to his mental list of school houses. He already knew about _"Hufflepuff" _and _"Slytherin,"_ so that made at least three houses.

"And Fred and George here, they're the team Beaters," Oliver Wood went on. "Brilliant players, the both of them, and of course there was their brother Charlie, could have made it professional if he hadn't quit the sport to focus on those dragons of his... What about you?" he added, looking at Ronnie. "Got any of the old Weasley talent?"

"Oh, she doesn't play Quidditch," said one of the twins (possibly Fred) dismissively. "She's barely even been on a broomstick."

"Much too busy with her dollies and her tea parties," said the other twin (who might be George).

"Shut up!" Ronnie snarled.

"Hear that, Oliver? Such anger, and towards her own brothers too." said probably-George.

"Not very ladylike at all." said likely-to-be-Fred.

"You just wait!" said Ronnie hotly. "I'll make the team, see if I don't!"

"Oh, but Ronnie-honey," said almost-definitely-George.

"Don't call me that!" snapped Don't-call-me-Ronnie-Honey.

"Ronnie-honey," George-until-proven-otherwise repeated. "You forget one vital thing. You may not even be in Gryffindor. "

"He's right," said almost-certain-to-be-Fred. "All Weasley _boys _end up in Gryffindor, but _you're_ not a boy, are you?"

"First _girl_ born into the family for seven generations. You broke a long streak of boys only. Stands to reason you'll break an equally-long streak of Gryffindors only."

"Yeah, there's every chance you'll go straight to Slytherin."

The twins smiled innocently at Ronnie, who was starting to look rather green.

"I - you - _shut up!"_ the girl exploded, in a voice suggesting that she was close to tears. "You don't know anything! You don't -" and then, with a sound that could have been a growl, or a sob, she tore the door to the compartment open and ran out.

Everyone stared.

"That was _mean_, Fred," said one of the girls in an accusing tone, looking at the twin who had made the Slytherin remark.

"It was a joke, I thought she could take a joke..." now-confirmed-to-be-Fred murmured, but he did look rather guilty.

Concerned, and mildly surprised at himself for worrying so much about a girl he'd just met, Harry excused himself and exited the compartment as well. He found Ronnie at the end of the corridor, leaning her forehead against the window, her shoulders shaking. When she heard him approach, though, she straightened herself and turned towards him.

"I wasn't crying," she said, even though her face was suspiciously red.

"Er, no, of course not," said Harry.

"I was just admiring the scenery."

"Right."

"It's much more interesting from this window!"

"Yeah, absolutely."

There was a short pause. Then Ronnie took a deep breath. "What if they're right?" she said in a soft voice. "What if I'm not in Gryffindor?"

"Er, I don't know," Harry admitted. "I don't really know anything about the school houses. Er, except that Slytherin was Voldemort's old house?"

Ronnie gave a start and almost lost her balance.

"What?" said Harry, concerned.

"You - you said his name!" she gasped.

"Oh. Right," said Harry, suddenly remembering what Hagrid had said about wizards didn't like mentioning Voldemort's name. "Sorry, I forgot."

"Forgot?" Ronnie gaped. _"Forgot that_ - well, you're _sure _to be in Gryffindor, then!"

"Oh? Why?"

"Because -" Ronnie wiped her eyes with her hand. "Well, Gryffindor's the house you go to if you're really brave, see? Dumbledore himself was in Gryffindor, and all my family's been in Gryffindor. Mum, Dad, my brothers... What if I'm not? What if I really _do _end up in Slytherin? I'd really hate that."

"I don't think I'd like Slytherin either," said Harry, stepping a little closer. "I wouldn't like to be in the same house as Vol - as the one who killed my parents," he corrected himself.

"Who would?" Ronnie swallowed. "But what if _I _am? Mum'll kill me."

Harry could only shrug. He'd like to comfort Ronnie somehow, but couldn't think of a way. "I - don't know. How do they decide what house you're in, anyway?"

"Dunno," Ronnie murmured. "Some kind of test, I think. Fred said something about wrestling a troll."

_"What?"_

The voice came from behind them. Harry and Ronnie turned to see a girl their age, already dressed in her new Hogwarts robes and with large front teeth and a bushy mop of brown hair. She was accompanied by a boy with dark hair and a round face, who looked at them both rather timidly.

"They wouldn't make us wrestle trolls!" the girl said, in a voice that was turning increasingly shrill. "They wouldn't send first-years up against a troll, it would be completely irresponsible and, and dangerous! We're not supposed to learn the proper spells to deal with a troll until our third year, none of our course books for this year mention trolls, and I've read all of them, several times, and no, they _wouldn't! _Would they, Neville?" She turned to the boy for confirmation.

"I... don't know..." he answered. "My Gran wouldn't tell me..."

"Well, they wouldn't!" said the girl, though she sounded a little less certain of the fact than her words indicated. Then, her eyes fell on Ronnie. "Have you been crying?" she said, rather bluntly.

"No!" Ronnie snapped.

"Well, you shouldn't, I mean yes, it's strange to leave home like this, but it's ever so exciting to be off to study magic, and I'm sure we'll be so busy learning new things that we won't even have time to get homesick," said the girl, probably intending to sound encouraging. "Nobody in my family's magical at all, so it was was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard, and I'm so looking forward to learn everything and my parents are so proud of me, and I've learned all our course books, of course, but I'm sure there'll be so much more to learn - oh, and by the way, my name is Hermione Granger. And this is Neville Longbottom, from a long line of wizards." All this came at a great speed.

"Hi," said Neville Longbottom, from a long line of wizards, timidly.

"We're looking for his toad," said Hermione Granger. "Have either of you seen it?"

"Er - no," said Harry. "Ronnie?"

"Can't say I have."

"Well, thanks anyway," said Neville, looking disappointed.

"We'd better continue looking then. Don't worry, Neville, we'll find him," said Hermione, taking Neville's hand and more or less dragging him along. She did, however, stop by Ronnie and give her an encouraging smile. "And don't you worry either, Hogwarts will be ever so much fun, and I bet that within a week - no, within a _day _- you'll have forgotten all about how frightened you were, and once you've found out what house you're in, you'll settle down and you'll think you were silly for crying."

"I wasn't crying!"

"Oh, of course not, don't worry, we won't tell anyone, will we, Neville? See you later!" And with that, Hermione dragged Neville off and vanished, leaving Harry and Ronnie standing there gaping.

"I think," said Ronnie slowly, "I think I'd like to go back to our compartment now."

"Yeah," said Harry. "Good idea. But you know, we never even saw that tarantula."

"I think I'll pass," said Ronnie. "I don't want to talk to Fred and George right now."

On their way back to the compartment, they passed a smiling, dimpled woman pushing a cart with all kinds of wizard-type sweets and snacks. As she'd apparently already passed their compartment, and as Harry for the first time in his life had lots of money in his pockets (and just remembered that he hadn't had breakfast yet), he grabbed the chance to buy as many different foods as he could. Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans, Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, Ice Mice, and loads of other strange goodies he'd never heard of before.

Ronnie's eyes were huge as Harry carried off the huge load. "Hungry, are you?" she said.

"Starving," said Harry. "Want some? There's more than enough for us both."

"Well... No, thank you, Mum sent with me some sandwiches, I should probably eat them before they get too dry..." Ronnie murmured, though Harry could tell that she really wanted to say yes.

"Go on, I've got loads," said Harry, and discovered in that very moment how good it felt to have something to share... and even more importantly, someone to share _with_.

In the end, they ended up sharing the lot, and Ronnie's mood improved drastically as they sat in their compartment, making their way through the considerable pile of snacks and sweets, and chatting away like old friends.

Time flew past as she told him all about what the different sweets were and what he could expect from them, and when Harry pried, she talked about her family, who were all wizards (except for one second cousin of her mother's that apparently was an accountant, but Ronnie had never met him), she told him stories her brothers had told her about life at Hogwarts, about wild pranks Fred and George had pulled, and about her sister Ginny, who wasn't going to start school until next year and had been very angry about that.

Harry, in return, told her about life in the Muggle world (though he decided to refrain from mentioning he'd slept in a cupboard for most of his life; somehow he felt mentioning such details would make it look like he was fishing for sympathy), and Ronnie seemed to find Muggle life just as fascinating as Harry found wizard life.

"You've got to meet my Dad sometime," she said. "He's wild about everything Muggle. Keeps bringing home all sorts of Muggle devices and trying to make them run. Drives Mum up the wall."

She was in the middle of telling him about a motorised lawnmower that her father had brought home, which he'd somehow managed to get going and lost control over, the result being that the carpet in the Weasley's living room now had a bare stripe on one side, when the compartment door slid open and Hermione Granger peeked in.

"Hello," she said. "I'm still looking for Neville's toad. Have you seen it since last we spoke? Oh, and how are you doing, are you feeling any better?" This last part was to Ronnie, who opened her mouth to answer, but then apparently thought better of it and just nodded. "Good, because I was thinking about what you said about wrestling a troll, and I think -"

But what Hermione thought, Harry never knew, because at that moment three boys appeared behind her, two of them large and hulking brutes not unlike a couple of junior trolls, who made even Ronnie look tiny by comparison, and the third a much smaller and paler boy that Harry recognised from before; it was the same boy he'd met at Madam Malkin's.

Hermione shrieked in surprise as one of the brutes grabbed her shoulder and pulled her away from the door to make way for the pale boy, who strolled into the compartment as if he owned the entire train.

"So," he said, looking at Harry with much greater interest than he had at Madam Malkin's. "It's true, is it? They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter is in this compartment. That's you, is it?"

"Yes," said Harry, looking at him, and then at the two others, who were flanking him like bodyguards.

Another shriek came from Hermione, who poked her head back into the compartment. "You're Harry Potter?" she said excitedly. "Oh my goodness, I'm sorry, I didn't realise, I've read all about you in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark __Arts_ and -"

"Nobody asked your opinion," said the pale boy coolly, turning to look at her through narrowed eyes. "Who might you be?"

Hermione looked a little put out by his tone, but nevertheless answered in a reasonably polite tone: "Hermione Granger."

"I don't know any Grangers," said the pale boy. "Who are your parents? They're not -" (and here he made a disgusted face) _"- Muggles,_ are they?"

"Not that it's any of your business," said Hermione stiffly, "but my parents are quite successful dentists, and -"

"Just as I thought. Stay out of this, _Mudblood,"_ the pale boy sneered, turning away from her to focus on Harry again.

Ronnie had gone white. She raised herself and glared at the pale boy. "You did not just say that!" she snarled.

If the boy was intimidated by this, he didn't show it. "And _you're_ a Weasley," he said. "I know all about _your _family. Red hair and disgusting, Muggle-style clothes - not even _new_, disgusting Muggle-style clothes. Heard you were bawling in the corridor earlier. Can't say I blame you; if I belonged to such a pitiful excuse for a wizarding family, I'd probably cry too. Potter," he said, once again focusing on Harry as Ronnie sputtered and snapped for her breath with anger. "Take this as a friendly warning. You don't want to get mixed up with riff-raff like these two. Look at them, they're not even remotely pretty by any standards - one looks like a beaver with a bushy wig, and the other's a beanstalk with red hair. If you want lady friends, I can introduce you to some _proper _witches, of good family. I assure you, they'll be a lot more stimulating company than -" (he looked at both Ronnie and Hermione with disdain) _"-this." _

Both Ronnie and Hermione exploded at the exact same time, though in different ways.

Ronnie let out a loud roar of anger and lunged for the pale boy, just as Hermione began yelling: "Oh, and you're one to talk, are you, I've met _pigs _that had better manners than you, you appalling, chauvinist, excuse for a human being -"

She didn't get any further, because one of the brutes grabbed her and, with an ugly expression, clamped a gigantic hand over her mouth, silencing her. The other brute, meanwhile grabbed Ronnie before she could even get close to the pale boy, hauling her off the ground and holding her tight.

The girls squirmed and struggled, Ronnie kicking and snarling like a wildcat, but the brutes were too strong for them.

The pale boy, completely unmoved by this, merely shook his head and looked at the struggling girls. "Pitiful. No class whatsoever, you'd think they were Muggles. Now, Potter -"

"Get out!" Harry commanded - a lot more bravely than he felt, because he was the smallest and skinniest person in the room and did not exactly have very high hopes about his ability to fight off even one of these boys, let alone all three. "You just let those girls go, and _get out!"_

"Or you'll do what, Potter?" said the boy, his eyes narrowing. "You'll fight me? This is my last piece of friendly advice, and I do hope you'll take it: Watch your step. If you don't wise up and begin treating the proper wizarding families with a bit more respect instead of hanging out with scum like this, you'll end up just like those parents of yours."

Just then, there was a loud cry from the brute holding Hermione, who pulled his hand away from her face.

"Let me go or I'll bite you again!" she demanded once her mouth was free.

"Let me go or I'll kick your balls!" Ronnie snarled to the brute still holding her.

Hedwig, who had slept through it all, now woke up and started hooting indignantly.

Harry braced himself. It looked like it was going to come to a fight, and he was absolutely certain that he would lose, but seeing Ronnie and Hermione both in the grasp of boys the size of young trolls, he couldn't _not _do anything. Just as he was about to make his move, though, he saw four familiar figures appear behind the pale boy.

_"What is going on here?"_ said Percy Weasley.

The three boys all turned to see the three Weasley brothers, plus Neville Longbottom (who looked completely terrified) standing in the corridor just outside the compartment.

The two brutes quickly let go of the girls, while the pale boy got just slightly paler. "More Weasleys," he sneered, obviously trying, and just as obviously failing, to keep the cool contempt in his voice.

"That's right," said one of the twins. "More Weasleys."

"Weasleys who don't like what they're seeing," said the other twin.

"And one of whom happens to be a Prefect," said Percy rather pompously. "You're Lucius Malfoy's son, aren't you? And these must be - oh yes, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. What do you think you're doing?"

Ronnie, who had fallen to the floor when she had been dropped, got rather unsteadily to her feet. "They came in here and began insulting our family, and they called _her -"_ (she pointed to Hermione) "-an ugly word that I don't want to repeat, and then these two trolls attacked us!"

Percy's mouth tightened. "Rest assured, I will be speaking to whomever your Head of House turns out to be," he said to the three boys. "And I will keep my eye on you three from now on."

"And if _he's_ too busy -" said one twin.

"- then _we'll _be more than happy to do it for him," said the other.

"You stay away from our sister!"

"Yeah, and her friends!"

"Or we'll make sure you regret it!"

"That's enough, you two," said Percy. "And you three - get out."

Seeing that they were outnumbered, and not prepared to risk getting into even more trouble, the three boys turned and slinked out of the compartment. Lucius Malfoy's son, however, couldn't resist glaring at all the Weasleys, and at Hermione, and last of all at Harry. "This isn't over, Potter," he sneered. "But don't say I didn't warn you!"

_"Scram!"_ the twins chorused, and then both Lucius Malfoy's son and his two friends were gone.

All at once, the three Weasley brothers entered the compartment. One of the twins went straight up to Ronnie and brushing off some dust that had gathered on the girl's shirt after her unexpected trip to the floor. "Are you all right, Ron?" he said. "Look, I didn't mean that part about Slytherin, you know that, right?"

"Gerroff, Fred," Ronnie snapped, trying to twist away from him. "I'm all right!"

"What about you two?" said Percy, looking at Harry and Hermione. "Are you all right?"

Hermione nodded. She looked a little shaken, but unhurt.

"Thanks for the rescue," said Harry, going over to Hedwig's cage to make sure the owl was all right too. "I don't even know what that was about."

Percy's face darkened. "There are certain wizard families, the Malfoys among them, who insist on holding onto the outdated belief that the only thing that matters is purity of blood," he said.

"Pure wizard blood, that is," Fred-according-to-Ronnie explained when he saw Harry's confused expression. "No Muggles anywhere on the family tree."

"My parents are both Muggles," said Hermione, uncharacteristically silent and subdued. "Is that what _'Mudblood'_ means?"

"That's a nasty and dirty word," said Ronnie, looking at Hermione. "Anyone ever call you that, you just come to me, and I'll kick 'em in the arse for you!"

"Yeah, you were doing a really good job of that, dear sister," said George. "You can thank Neville here for the timely rescue." (Neville smiled nervously.) "He noticed that Malfoy and his cronies were up to no good and came to alert us -"

"- of course, we were already on our way over here," Fred added. "Just to see if you were doing all right. And Prefect Percy was doing his Prefectly duties and doing a bit of patrolling, so he was going the same way."

"Well." Percy cleared his throat rather pompously. "I was really just going around to see if everyone was changed into their robes. We'll be at Hogwarts soon. In fact, you two had better put your robes on," he added to Harry and Ronnie. "The first-years always take the scenic route to Hogwarts. You'll enjoy that, no doubt. Come on, Fred. George. There'll be carriages waiting for us."

As the three Weasley brothers left the compartment, a voice echoed through the train: _"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."_

"Blimey," said Ronnie. "Percy's right, we'd better get into our robes!"

"Er -" Harry wasn't at all certain that he wanted to take off his clothes with two girls around, but Ronnie caught this and grinned at him.

"Just put the robes on over your Muggle clothes," she said. "That's what I'm doing."

"Oh," said Harry, relieved. "Right, then."

As he opened his trunk and fished out his long, black robe, he heard Ronnie walk up to Hermione and say: "By the way, nice biting. I hope that git gets a nice big scar."

"I didn't really mean to bite him," said Hermione, sounding a little embarrassed. "I just got so angry... I mean, I've read about prejudices against Muggle-born witches and wizards, of course, but all the books made it out that it was a thing of the past."

"Not as past as it should be," said Ronnie.

"It looks like I still have a lot to learn about the wizarding world," Hermione sighed. "I knew I should have ordered more books, I was just afraid that if I got too many, I wouldn't have time to read them all before I got to Hogwarts."

"Well." Ronnie suddenly sounded a little awkward. "You know. Books are nice and all, but they don't tell everything."

"Oh, of course they do," said Hermione. "You just have to find the _right _book, that's all. And I must have missed one or two of them. I didn't know I'd have to face such... er... such..." she trailed off, uncertain what to say.

"Look, there are gits everywhere," said Ronnie. "But real, decent wizarding folks, they don't care about blood or anything like that. Er. The important thing is that you, you know, do your best and all that... Right, er, Neville?"

"What?" Neville sounded a little startled that Ronnie had addressed him, but managed to say: "Oh. Yes. Right. My Gran says that some of the best wizards and witches around are Muggle-borns."

His robes finally fully on, Harry turned again to see the three others standing by the door. Ronnie was now in her robes as well, though Harry couldn't help but notice that they were slightly too short for her and that her sneakers were visible underneath them.

The train was slowing down. It was getting dark outside; mountains and forests were silhouetted against a deep, purple sky.

Harry took a deep breath as the train finally came to a halt. "Okay," he said, hoping that they wouldn't notice how much his voice was quaking. "This is it, then."

"Off to school," Ronnie agreed. She had gone rather pale underneath her freckles. "Moment of truth. Never mind about Gryffindor, but if I'm in the same house as that Malfoy git, I'm going home! Wouldn't mind being in the same house as you three, though," she added, a little shyly.

"Let's hope we all manage the fight against that troll, then," Harry tried to joke.

"Well, you already have been fighting two trolls, haven't you?" said Neville. "Three if you count Malfoy..." He blushed as the other three laughed - more out of nervousness than because the joke was particularly funny.

"Right," said Hermione. "Let's go, then."

"I still don't know where my toad is," said Neville anxiously.

"Er, wait," said Ronnie, looking down at her feet. "This wouldn't happen to be him, would it?"

They all looked down to see a large toad sitting on Ronnie's foot. It looked back up at them with a rather confused expression.

"Trevor!" said Neville, bending over to pick his pet up. "Where have you been? Oh, thank you for finding him!" he beamed at Ronnie.

"Actually, he seems to have found me," said Ronnie a little embarrassedly. "I just now realised something was sitting on my foot, and, well, there he was."

"We're all set then," said Harry as Neville happily slid the toad into his robe pocket. "See you at school, Hedwig," he added to his owl, who hooted from her cage and shook her wings a little, in a way that he hoped meant that she agreed.

And so, Harry Potter and the first three friends he'd ever had walked out into the night and off towards the future.

* * *

**THE BEGINNING...**

* * *

**Author's Notes: **I have no idea where I was even going with this. After reading the umpteenth "Harry as a girl" fic, I just felt like seeing what might happen if I changed the gender of one of the other main characters, and so I began writing my version of Harry and Ron's first meeting, with a female Ron. Before I really knew it, I'd written almost eight thousand words, so I suppose you can say I got carried away.

Now, Harry's life has been as in canon, as have Hermione's, Neville's and Malfoy's, but the Weasley dynamic is changed a bit with two daughters instead of one, and so the entire chapter took a different turn (partly because I didn't just want to do the canon meeting scene with a few changed pronouns, and partly because it just happened that way).

Veronica Weasley is very close to her male counterpart in personality; blunt, sarcastic, temperamental and liable to act before she thinks - with five older brothers, she'd turn out a bit of a tomboy - but she's slightly more sensitive and emotional, though she pretends not to be, and her hang-ups and insecurities are a little different, if similar, to Ronald Weasley's. She's had quite a few "you're just a girl" comments thrown at her over the years, and so she's a little pushier and more determined to prove herself, but with five older and massively talented older brothers she's still worried she'll never reach their level - and this is made even worse because she thinks everyone expects the first Weasley girl in generations to be brilliant. She's closer to Ginny, because they're the only girls in the family, and her brothers are a lot more protective of her, though equally prepared to cheerfully give her a hard time, in the name of sibling rivalry.

Also, she's not afraid of spiders, or at least not _as _afraid of spiders - because in this universe Fred didn't turn her teddy bear into one. This universe's Fred didn't have the heart to do that to his baby sister, even if she did break his toy broom.

I don't even know if I'm going to continue this story or just leave it as is. I'm open to suggestions!


	2. Potter's Gang

**Well, since a reviewer named Veronica (with the penname "DumbyLvr") threatened to hunt me down with her doggie unless I continued this story of Veronica Weasley... and a reviewer made BBauzzie threatened me with, uh, some mysteriously twirling fingers... well, I suppose I'd better continue it, then.**

* * *

**WEASLEY GIRL**

**Based on the _Harry Potter_ books by J. K. Rowling**

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO:  
****Potter's Gang**

* * *

After only a few days at Hogwarts, Harry Potter was utterly convinced that there was no greater place on Earth.

Oh, he'd be the first to admit that it wasn't perfect. While the stares and whispers among the students whenever he entered a room or walking down one of the corridors (_"That's him!" - "Next to that tall redheaded girl!" - "Did you see his face?" - "Did you see his scar?"_) were much better than the hostile glares and nervous looks he'd get at Privet Drive, they were still very distracting. Especially when he was trying to navigate the huge and unpredictable castle that was Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry (whose idea had it been to make staircases with vanishing steps, or doors that you had to tickle in order to open, anyway?).

Also, lessons were much harder than he'd ever thought they'd be. There was a lot more to magic than Harry had ever imagined, and though most of the teachers said it was all a matter of practice, it was occasionally a little discouraging to spend an entire class of Transfiguration (taught by Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House) trying to turn matches into needles and getting absolutely nowhere. Still, it was a comfort to learn that Ronnie had been right; Harry was not the only one to have problems with the subjects, and he did neither better nor worse than most of the others.

Not all the teachers or other members of the Hogwarts staff were helpful, either. Professor Quirrell spent more time stuttering and cowering than teaching. Professor Binns, despite being something so unusual as a ghost teacher, still managed to officially be the Most Boring Person Ever. The caretaker, Mr. Filch, was a nasty old man who seemed to delight in catching students breaking some rule or other and threatening to lock them up in the dungeons or some other harsh punishment. And the librarian, Madam Pince, seemed to view students as a nuisance who shouldn't be allowed in her precious library and took any excuse to throw them out.

And of course the ghosts, Oh, great heavens, the ghosts. Harry had very quickly grown used to their presence, and a number of them were even friendly and helpful, but every so often one of them would get upset or angry over something and begin shouting and pestering a student - and Peeves the Poltergeist, the most malicious spirit in the castle, needed absolutely no excuse to prank, inconvenience or menace any of the students. His only redeeming quality was that he'd often provide a distraction for students cornered by Mr. Filch, who hated the poltergeist more than anything and would often drop everything in order to chase after him.

But really, all these things were minor annoyances at worst, and they were nothing at all compared to the many, many great things about the school. Harry liked the Great Hall, where everyone would gather at mealtimes, he liked the food (which was usually less varied or extravagant as it had been at the welcoming feast, but even the everyday meals were ten times better than anything he'd received with the Dursleys'), he liked the school grounds, the castle and the lake, he liked the large four-poster bed he got to sleep in - and more than everything, he liked being a Gryffindor.

Because of course he _had_ become a Gryffindor. He hadn't even needed to fight any more trolls (literal or figurative ones) to become one, all he had to do was put on a talking hat and suffer through a few nerve-wrecking moments as the Hat decided on the house to send him to.

But the Sorting seemed like ages ago now, and though he still had vague memories of being afraid that he'd end up in Slytherin - or worse, be told that he wouldn't fit into any of the four houses and that he'd have to leave immediately - it all seemed like it had happened in another lifetime, and now he could barely even remember what it felt like to _not _be a Gryffindor.

Ronnie, Neville and Hermione were also Gryffindors - Ronnie, who had been one of the last students to be sorted, had been so relieved when the Sorting Hat had called out _"Gryffindor!"_ that she had almost started to cry again, and had spent several minutes during the welcoming feast telling everyone that she wasn't crying at all and that her face was only red because she was feeling hot, wearing full Muggle clothes under her robes.

Fred and George, perhaps still feeling bad about upsetting her on the Hogwarts Express, congratulated her repeatedly and assured her that they'd never really doubted for a second that she'd end up in Gryffindor. In fact, they said it so many times that Ronnie eventually got fed up with it and threatened to punch them both if they mentioned it one more time - and after that, things were back to normal between the three siblings.

All in all, there were ten students who had been sorted into Gryffindor that year, four boys and six girls ("Which just goes to prove that girls are braver than boys," Ronnie had said, and had been promptly told to shut up by all three of her brothers). Harry didn't know all of them well enough to make up a final opinion of them yet, not to mention all the other Gryffindors, which had to be more than a hundred in number and seldom remained still and in one place for long enough to get a proper overview - but he was certain of one thing: There wasn't one among them that he wouldn't rather have for company than Dudley Dursley. Or, for that matter, Lucius Malfoy's son (whose first name turned out to be "Draco"), who along with his friends Crabbe and Goyle had become a Slytherin.

The three boys he shared his dorm room with were all perfectly friendly. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan had hit it off with each other very quickly and were always together, but were nice to Harry as well - and Neville, whom Harry had taken a bit of a liking to thanks to his minor role in the incident at the Hogwarts express, might be timid and accident-prone, but he didn't have a mean bone in his body and was actually rather nice to talk to once he overcame his shyness.

The girls, he didn't know as well.

The exception, of course, was Ronnie, who was probably the easiest person to talk to that he'd ever met. She had a casual attitude to most things (unless they angered or upset her, and then her fiery temper would explode) and loved to joke around - they were getting along so well, in fact, that Fred and George, now back to normal, had asked when the wedding would be, and pretended to start an argument over what to name the first-born child.

Ronnie had gone pinker than ever at that, and for a few minutes she refused to meet Harry's eyes while she called the twins the nastiest names she could think of.

Most of the other first-year Gryffindor girls seemed a little shy around Harry, though this did not apply to Hermione Granger, who probably didn't even know what it was like to be shy. The girl had bonded with Ronnie after the incident on the Hogwarts Express, and would often be found hanging around Ronnie (and by extent, Harry) whenever she wasn't sitting with her nose in one of the five thousand books she appeared to read on a daily basis.

"I dunno why," Ronnie had confessed to Harry one evening, while Hermione was off reading her current favourite book, _Hogwarts: A History,_ and was deaf and blind to anything else, "I have absolutely nothing in common with her. She's dead clever, mind - absolutely _brilliant_, really. Comes from a Muggle background, only known about magic for a couple of months, and still knows all sorts of spells! Did you _see _her at Transfiguration?"

Harry nodded. Hermione was the only one in their year who had managed to turn a matchstick into a needle during their very first lesson.

"Absolutely brilliant," Ronnie repeated. "But barking mad. She spends more time reading than Percy does, she's obsessed with homework, she shows off during lessons, the thinks everything has to be done _her _way... and she even thinks Quidditch is silly! It's just because she's never seen a game, of course, but honestly! What sort of person doesn't like _Quidditch?"_

Harry could only shrug his shoulders. If he was to be honest, Quidditch sounded rather confusing to him, even with Ronnie's numerous enthusiastic attempts at explaining the game, but the way everyone was going on about it he couldn't wait to actually see it played, just to find out what the fuss was about. "She's all right," he said diplomatically. "Bit bossy, but - you like her well enough, don't you?"

"Yeah..." Ronnie murmured. "I dunno, I think it's impossible to end up in a fight with a couple of trolls alongside someone and _not _end up liking them at least a little. And, well, it's weird, really, but... 's just that when I'm with her I don't miss my sister as much."

"Hermione reminds you of your sister?" said Harry.

Ronnie pondered this for a bit. "Not really, no."

"...Okay," Harry finally said.

Ronnie gave him a half-smile. "Ginny and I used to do everything together, you know, being the only girls in the family... and now I'm here and she's back home..."

"But you'll see her again when the year's over, won't you?" said Harry. He himself didn't much like to think about how the year would eventually end and he'd have to go back to the Dursleys for the summer holidays, but he hoped that he could at least cheer Ronnie up a little. "Besides, she'll start Hogwarts next year, right?"

"Yeah." Ronnie's half-smile became a full smile. "I know, I'm being silly. Thanks, Harry. You know, you're a good chum."

Harry couldn't help but feel a little pleased at that. He'd never had any friends before, certainly nobody who would willingly _call _him a friend, but here Ronnie was calling him her friend just as if it went without saying. He had certainly come a long way in less than a week, he thought; from his lonely existence with the Dursleys he now had several friends, with at least one of them being a _confirmed _friend.

Together with Ronnie, and also Neville and Hermione, he had navigated through his first week at school, and was really feeling that they were getting the hang of school life, joys and annoyances and all.

He was even starting to get used to all the stares and whispers that seemed to follow him around wherever he went, and thought that if this was the worst that would come out of his fame, it might not be so bad.

That, however, was before his first Potions lesson, with the Head of Slytherin, Professor Snape.

* * *

Harry had anticipated his first Potions lesson with a sense of dread. There was something about the way Professor Snape would occasionally look at him during mealtimes that made him rather uneasy. There was sheer hatred in those black eyes... but Harry had never even spoken to Snape; what possible reason would the man have to hate him?

It didn't make it any better that the Gryffindors had Potions lessons together with the Slytherins, and _that _meant that Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle would be in the same class. Harry and the others had managed to avoid the trio since the Hogwarts Express (an event they, much to Ronnie's lament, didn't seem to have got in any trouble for, even though Percy claimed that he'd reported the incident to the teachers immediately after the welcoming feast), and he wasn't at all looking forward to having to spend two whole hours in their company.

His sense of dread deepened as he and the other Gryffindor first-years entered the Potions classroom, which was really one of the dungeon rooms; cold and dark and foreboding. It was almost impossible to enter without immediately thinking of starved prisoners and medieval torture, and the various jars placed on shelves around the room didn't exactly put the mind at ease, filled as they were with pickled, dead animals and nasty-looking things that Harry would rather not speculate on what was.

The Slytherin first-years were already there, peering at them through narrowed and haughty eyes (Malfoy was sitting at the front of the room, together with his two trolls, as Harry couldn't help labeling Crabbe and Goyle, all of them sending Harry nasty smiles), and Professor Snape was standing at the end of the room with a sour and impatient expression on his face, and with a sharp movement motioning for them to take their seats.

"You are late," he said. "I will give you this warning exactly once: In _my _class, I expect punctuality." He had a curiously soft voice, of the kind that constantly threatens to become an angry roar but never quite does.

Harry found a seat as far away from Malfoy as possible, and was joined by Ronnie on one side and Neville on the other, with Hermione taking the seat next to Ronnie.

There was almost complete silence as Snape took the roll call, and a particularly long and nasty silence followed after he'd called Harry's name.

"Ah, yes," he said. "Harry Potter. Our new - _celebrity."_

Several Slytherins, most notably Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, sniggered behind their hands as Snape continued the roll call, leaving Harry to wonder just what he had done wrong to deserve such cold treatment from a teacher.

He'd continue to feel confused about this, as Snape, after finishing the roll call, began an extremely curious speech on his subject:

"- I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses..." he said, letting his cold, black eyes sweep over the room, lingering extra long on Harry. "I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper on death... _If!"_ he added with a sudden sharpness, "you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

His black eyes met Harry's and all of a sudden he was up close. "Potter!" he said. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry blinked. He had no idea what either of those things even were, and out of the corner of his eyes he could see that both Ronnie and Neville looked as clueless as he felt, even though Hermione was raising her hand eagerly. "I .. don't know, sir?" he said.

Snape smiled. It wasn't a pleasant smile - in fact it was more of a sneer - but he seemed very pleased that Harry didn't know the answer. "Tut, tut," he said, in a voice that had more than a hint of self-satisfied smugness in it, "clearly fame isn't everything."

Harry said nothing. What _could_ he say?

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"I - don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" said Snape nastily.

"That's bloody unfair!" Ronnie suddenly snapped from beside Harry. "Hermione's been sitting with her hand up all the time, why don't you ask her and leave Harry alone?"

Snape's head snapped towards her. "If I wanted to hear from Miss Granger," he said in a dangerously soft voice, "I would have _asked _Miss Granger. I would kindly have you refrain from commenting on the way I teach this subject - or am I perhaps in error, Weasley? Perhaps I'm _not _the one teaching this subject? Would you like to step up and take over?"

Ronnie had gone pink. Several of the Slytherins were laughing, and doing a very poor job at hiding it, but Snape ignored them and just stared intensely at Ronnie.

"Let me inform you of something," he said. "Earlier this week, your Prefect brother came to me with a story about how you, Potter and Granger had been _assaulted _on the train. He gave me the names of three students he claimed to be guilty - surprisingly enough, all three of them had just been sorted into Slytherin. He _insisted_ that I punish them."

Ronnie opened her mouth to answer, and then apparently thought better of it.

"I told him in no uncertain terms that I would do no such thing," said Snape. "Unlike your brother, _I_ saw your little escapade exactly for what it was: a laughably transparent attempt to get three innocent students into trouble."

"You can't be serious!" Ronnie blurted out. "That ponce and those _trolls _strolled right into our compartment and _attacked _us!" She pointed at Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, who were grinning at her with malicious smugness. "They're sitting right there, look -!"

"I will not tolerate you slandering your fellow students, Weasley!" Snape snapped at her. "If I hear so much as one more word out of you along those lines - _one more word_ against innocent Slytherins - I'll personally see to it that you are expelled! That goes for all four of you!" he added, glowering at Harry, Neville and Hermione as well.

Neville let out a small squeak as Snape's eyes met his, and he looked like what he most of all would like to do was sink through the floor.

"I know a gang of troublemakers when I see one," Snape continued, still ignoring the exaggeratedly subdued laughter of Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy. "I will be keeping my eye on all of you. And y_ou two,"_ he added, turning his attention to Ronnie and Hermione. "If you insist on being in Potter's gang, I suggest you both remember your mothers' stories about what happens to foolish little girls who get seduced by promises of fame and glory!"

Both Ronnie and Hermione were absolutely speechless. Harry felt his cheeks grow hot.

"Now then," said Snape, turning to the rest of the class and fixing them all with a glare. "For your information, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful that it is known as the Draught of Living Death. And a bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat, and it will save you from most poisons. Why aren't you copying this down?"

All the students, Gryffindors and Slytherins alike, hurried to get out their quills and parchments. "And you Gryffindors might be interested to learn," said Snape over the noise, "that you have Potter's gang to thank for the twenty points I'm now taking from your house."

The rest of the Potions lesson was a complete disaster for anyone who wasn't in Slytherin. Snape had them work in pairs to make a simple potion that cured boils, but Harry, who was working with Neville, was so put out by sheer astonishment over the unfairness that he couldn't concentrate - and Neville was no help; he'd been reduced to a nervous wreck and couldn't even get a proper fire going under the cauldron, which resulted in Snape stopping by several times to call Neville an idiot. Hermione and Ronnie were working together in stunned silence, and were for the most part ignored, and the rest of the Gryffindors were subject to sour commentaries and hash criticisms from Snape - the Slytherins got off without so much as a reprimand, even though many of them did worse than the Gryffindors, and Malfoy (whom Snape seemed to like, for some reason) was even held up as en excellent example for the other students.

Malfoy smiled in a self-satisfied way as Snape praised his excellently-stewed horned slugs, and glanced at the Gryffindors as if daring them to say otherwise.

"That was the _worst_ lesson I have ever been to!" Hermione fumed as they finally left the dungeon. "What kind of a teacher _is_ he? Insinuating that we - that Ronnie and I - that Harry - oooooh, I have a good mind to go to Professor Dumbledore with this, I'm sure that sort of behaviour isn't allowed -"

"Snape's been at school for years," said Ronnie glumly, "and he's always been horrible. You wouldn't believe the stories my brothers have told about him, and he's never been sacked. I think I officially hate Fridays now. Are you all right, Neville?"

Neville, who hadn't said a word other than the occasional squeak after the dressing-down Snape had given him, just shook his head.

It was a relief that none of the other first-year Gryffindors blamed them; most of them seemed even more confused at Snape's severe antipathy towards '"Potter's Gang," as he called them, than Harry himself was.

Indeed, Lavender Brown - one of Ronnie and Hermione's dorm-mates, normally a rather giggly and silly girl - came up to them immediately after the lesson was over to give both Hermione and Ronnie big hugs and tell them that she thought that Snape was being completely horrid, and that _she _believed them about that awful Malfoy and his ugly trolls. (Harry was a little afraid that she'd try to hug him as well, but luckily she didn't, though she did give sympathetic looks to both him and Neville.)

"Well, at least now we know why he's been glaring at me all week," said Harry after Lavender had gone off. "Seems like he thinks I'm, or well _we're, _out to discredit three of his students. Maybe Malfoy's his nephew or something, seemed like they knew each other."

Neville shook his head, but didn't say anything more.

"Well, if you ask me, he's _completely _out of line," said Hermione, who just seemed to have gathered more steam after Lavender's burst of sympathy. "Professional educators should not let their personal biases stop them from providing an education of decent quality. Did anyone from Gryffindor properly learn how to make that boil-curing potion, I don't think so, what if it's part of the end-of-year exams, then you _know_ none of us Gryffindors are going to pass, and all because that - that _man _was too busy making insults and threats - why are you looking at me like that?" That last part was directed to Ronnie, who was staring incredulously at her.

"Hermione," the taller girl said. "Not that I don't like to hear you berate that git, but it's just the first week of school. Isn't it a _little_ too early to think about end-of-year exams?"

"It's never too early to think about end-of-year exams," said Hermione.

Ronnie paused and then turned to Harry, tapping her forehead with her finger a few times to indicate what she thought of Hermione's state of sanity. Hermione gave her a hurt look and opened her mouth, and to stop her from going on what looked to be another tirade, Harry hurried to say: "You know, Hagrid sent me a letter inviting me to tea this afternoon! Would you three like to come along? I'm sure he won't mind!"

"Yeah - yeah, all right then," said Ronnie.

"Thank you, Harry, that's very kind of you," said Hermione, and as Harry had hoped, she didn't begin to berate Ronnie after that - apparently she felt the moment had passed.

And so it was that all four of them, at five to three, left the castle and made their way over the school grounds towards Hagrid's hut; a small, wooden cabin at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Already before Hagrid opened the door, they could hear the noise and commotion from inside; a few loud, barks sounded from inside, accompanied by Hagrid's rough, booming voice: "Back, Fang, _back!"_

And then the door opened, and there was Hagrid; just as huge and lumbering as he'd been when Harry first saw him, firmly holding the collar of an enormous black boarhound, who was barking and struggling to get loose, paws scraping against the wooden floor. "Hello, Harry!" the giant man beamed. "Jus' one moment - _back, Fang!"_ he added to the overeager dog as both Neville and Hermione shrank back.

"Hello, Hagrid!" said Harry. "I brought a couple of friends, I hope that's all right?"

"The more, the merrier!" said Hagrid. "Don't worry abou' Fang here," he added to Hermione and Neville, "he's friendly, he won't hurt yeh. He's jus' eager ter meet new people. C'mon in!"

They entered a surprisingly large room - Hagrid's hut had only one room, Harry realised, which served as kitchen, living room, bedroom and storage room all in one. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, the walls were covered in shelves and filled with all sorts of odd things, at the end of the room was an open fireplace where a copper kettle was hanging and boiling, chairs were set around a sturdy wooden table, and in the corner stood a huge bed with a patchwork quilt over it.

"Make yerselves at home!" said Hagrid, motioning over to the chairs and at the same time accidentally letting go of Fang - who immediately jumped at Ronnie and began licking her face while wagging his tail furiously.

"Ah - no, stop it!" Ronnie laughed, trying to push the friendly boarhound away. "Yeah, I - I'm glad to see you too, but - ack! Gerroff!" That last word almost drowned in loud fits of giggling.

"Ticklish, are you?" said Hermione, looking a little calmer - and with what Harry thought looked like a wicked gleam in her eyes.

"Yes!" Ronnie squeaked between her giggles. "Get 'im off me - oh, thank you!" she breathed in relief as Hagrid effortlessly pulled Fang away from her and told him to go and lie down. The boarhound reluctantly obeyed, and Ronnie wiped her face with her sleeve.

"Sorry abou' that," said Hagrid, picking up a towel and handing it to her. "Sometimes he fergets he's not a puppy anymore. 'Ere now, you're a Weasley, aren't yeh?"

Having got her breath back under control, Ronnie nodded. "Veronica Weasley," she said.

"'Course, now I remember it!" said Hagrid. _"Ronnie,_ that's what they call yeh, right? I remember the great fuss when yeh were born - firs' Weasley girl born in centuries. Caused a bit of a stir there, yeh did. Think there was even a small bit about yeh in the _Daily Prophet."_

"Yeah, I've seen it," said Ronnie, handing the towel back to him. "Mum cut it out and saved it. It was during the war, and apparently they were desperate for any news that weren't about You-Know-Who. Fred and George say I became a girl just because I knew I'd get more attention that way."

Hagrid chuckled. "Pleased ter meet yeh in any case. Sit down, sit down all o' yeh, I'll get yeh some tea."

As they flocked round the table, Harry introduced Hermione and Neville to Hagrid, and he greeted them warmly, as he poured boiling water from the copper kettle over into a large teapot.

"So how's yer toad doin'?" he asked Neville. "Seem ter remember yeh had a bit of trouble with him on the boat ride."

"T-Trevor's fine, I think," said Neville. "He keeps getting away from me, though. I-I don't think Hogwarts agrees with him. Ronnie's been good at finding him, though."

"More like he keeps finding me," said Ronnie. "I think he gets confused about which dorms are the boys' and which are the girls'."

"Well, if yeh got any more problems with 'im, bring him ter me sometime, an' I'll see if I can do somethin' for him," said Hagrid as he laid out mugs for them. "He wouldn' be the firs' toad havin' problems with adjustin' ter belongin' to a wizard... one o' the reasons why they went out o' style, really."

"Oh," said Neville, and looked like he didn't know whether to be relieved that he wasn't the only wizard to have such problems with his toad, or embarrassed that he had a toad to begin with.

Hagrid smiled at him. "Don' worry about it. They always come aroun' in the end. Difficult pets, toads, bu' with a bit o' patience they make great companions. "So," he added, addressing the whole group, "how's yer firs' week at Hogwarts bin, then?"

"It's been -" Harry hesitated. If Hagrid had asked that question before the Potions lesson, he would have enthusiastically claimed that he was having a great time, but at the moment Snape with his off-putting behaviour was still a little too fresh in his memory. "Mostly, it's been great."

"Mostly, eh?" After placing the teapot down onto the table, Hagrid grabbed a large tin which stood on a shelf by the fireplace and removed its lid, before fishing out a number of shapeless lumps that might - with some goodwill - be called rock cakes, which he put onto a plate. "'Course, there's always a lot ter get used ter, firs' week. Tha's ter be expected."

"I didn't say I didn't like it!" said Harry hurriedly, in case Hagrid had got the wrong idea, but Hagrid merely chuckled again as he placed the plate onto the table.

"I know yeh didn't," he said. "But I know how it can be, suddenly livin' in a new place, totally different from yer old one. Yeh might think it's great, might even think it's the best place yeh've ever known, bu' yer still not _used _ter it. Tha' part still takes a bit o' time. So, tell me abou' -" here he stopped and looked towards Ronnie again.

Fang, having grabbed the opportunity while Hagrid was busy, was back by Ronnie, tail still wagging fiercely (though at least he hadn't tried to jump up on her this time) as the girl scratched his ears.

Hagrid beamed. "Ah, he likes yeh!" he said. "Yeh take after yer brother Charlie, I see. He was always great with animals too."

"I like dogs," Ronnie said, scratching Fang's chin. "Well, when they're not trying to drown me in slobber, anyway." Somehow, she seemed a little embarrassed at the affection Fang was giving her, but it was also obvious (at least to Harry) that she rather liked it as well. At least she never took Hagrid's advice to "jus' shoo him off if he starts annoyin' yeh," because the dog remained firmly at her side through the rest of their visit.

Hagrid poured the tea for everyone, and though the rock cakes turned out to be exactly as edible as they looked - which is to say not at all - the tea itself at least was decent. Harry, Ronnie, Hermione and Neville sipped at it and pretended to enjoy the cakes as they told Hagrid all about their lessons.

He didn't seem surprised at all that they'd got into trouble with Snape. "Snape's not what yeh'd call friendly ter the students," he said. "Dislikes most of 'em, an' the ones he does like tend ter be in Slytherin. Gryffindors always get the wors' of it, too, so tha's another reason. Ol' house loyalties an' rivalries, see? "

"Why's he even allowed to teach?" Hermione blurted out.

"Well, man's a bloomin' genius when it comes ter potions," said Hagrid. "Not many people alive that know their way 'round a cauldron better than Snape does, an' yeh can take that as a fact. Much as students like ter complain about 'im, they still got Severus Snape ter thank fer some o' the mos' useful potions invented in the las' decade. Some of 'em he invented himself, some of 'em people who were his students at Hogwarts thought up."

"All right, so he's brilliant at stirring cauldrons," said Ronnie, scratching the adoring Fang's ears some more. "He's still a git. Threatened to expel the lot of us."

Hagrid raised his bushy eyebrows at this, so Hermione took over and told him about the events at Potions, and how Snape had first singled Harry out in order to put him up against the wall, and then had gone off on all four of them. Pouring them all some more tea, Hagrid wrinkled his brows as he listened.

"Well, now, I admit that's extreme, even fer Snape," he said in a contemplating voice, as if trying to choose his words carefully. "Reckon that, er, he wasn't happy abou' that incident at the Hogwarts Express an' jus' overreacted. Didn' like ter have three o' his own students accused o' somethin' like that."

"But you believe us, right?" said Harry hopefully, while trying to pretend he was enjoying the cakes. "I mean, they really did come into our compartment and start making trouble, for no reason at all. If Percy and Fred and George hadn't shown up when they did..."

"Course I believe yeh!" said Hagrid. "That Malfoy family, Harry. Nasty folks. Were on the side o' You-Know-Who durin' the war, as I remember, bu' got away with it by pretendin' they'd been under a spell. Absolute rot, o' course, reckon they were right in his inner circle. Don't surprise me in the least that a Malfoy would be up ter no good. An' those two others... same sort, by the sound of it." he looked at Ronnie and Hermione. "They didn't hurt yeh, did they?"

"The only thing that was hurt was our pride," said Hermione with a slight grimace.

"Apart from the bruise I got when Crabbe dropped me to the floor, " Ronnie added. "But that's gone now." (Fang looked at her with sympathetic eyes - or maybe he was just hoping she'd give him another scratch behind the ears, it was hard to tell.)

"Brutes," said Hagrid. "They do anythin' like that again, to any of yeh, yeh jus' go to ter one o' the teachers - or if yeh can't find any, come ter me. I'll set 'em straight!"

"Thanks, Hagrid," said Harry.

"Yeah, thanks," said Ronnie. "Knew it wouldn't do to go to _Snape _with it..."

"Woof," said Fang, as if wanting to add his thoughts to the conversation. Ronnie stroked him few times.

"Well, I wouldn' worry too much about those threats," said Hagrid soothingly. "Snape can take points an' give detentions, bu' he's not yer Head o' House, so he can't expel yeh withou' gettin' Professor McGonagall's ter agree to it."

Harry felt relieved; Professor McGonagall was strict, to be sure, but she seemed fair - surely she wouldn't follow up on Snape's threats. Hermione looked notably relieved as well, but Neville, who had barely said a word since he entered the hut, looked skeptical.

"I don't know," he said silently. "I saw how he looked at Harry. That wasn't just dislike, that was hate."

"Nonsense. What'd he hate Harry fer?" said Hagrid - though Harry could have sworn he didn't quite meet Neville's eyes when he said that. And then, before anyone else could say anything more on the subject, he turned to Ronnie and asked: "By the way, bin meanin' ter ask - how's Charlie doin'? Las' I saw 'im, he was talkin' about goin' off ter Romania ter study dragons."

Harry, Hermione and Neville exchanged glances, but as a startled Ronnie began telling Hagrid about Charlie's work with dragons, they came to a silent agreement to drop the subject for the time being.

All in all, though Hagrid was less forthcoming on the subject of Snape than Harry might have wished, it ended up a very nice visit. The difference between Hagrid's cosy and cluttered cabin and Snape's cold and forboding dungeon could not have been greater, and if his cooking left a lot to be desired Hagrid was a warm and friendly host that was easy to talk to. Even Neville eventually warmed up to the situation and began taking more part in the conversation.

It turned out that Hagrid knew quite a few people that Ronnie and Neville also knew - which made sense, given that all the people Ronnie and Neville knew were wizards and most of them had been at Hogwarts. Hagrid knew not only Ronnie's parents and brothers, but a large number of Neville's relatives as well (Neville had no siblings, but he seemed to have an endless stream of elderly relatives with whom Hagrid was at least on greeting terms). He could also tell quite a few stories about Harry's parents from when they'd been at Hogwarts, which Harry listened to eagerly - it was the first time he'd had anyone talk much about his parents, other than degrading comments about how they were freaks and deadbeats, or lies about how they'd died in a car crash.

"Yeh really look almost exactly like yer Dad did at eleven, Harry," said Hagrid fondly. "'cept yer eyes, o' course. Those are yer Mum's eyes."

The only person Hagrid didn't know anyone related to was Hermione, who as far as she knew was the only witch in her entire family.

"Don' know very many Muggles," Hagrid admitted. "Well, mos' wizards don't. 'Most of us find it hard ter always remember keepin' our magic a secret, so we don' go inter the Muggle world 'less we have ter. Y'know," he added, almost as an afterthought, "I reckon tha's where yeh Muggle-borns win out in the long run."

"Really?" Hermione perked up.

"Yeh know how ter act around Muggles. Yeh can go places an' do things we others can't - leastways, not without callin' too much attention to ourselves." Hagrid chuckled. "Right, Harry? Yeh remember me tryin' ter get around in the Muggle world, don't yeh?"

Harry nodded - and since Hagrid was laughing, he laughed too. "He got stuck on the escalators, didn't know how to get Muggle money sorted out and couldn't figure out what parking meters were."

"What _are _parking meters?" said Ronnie, looking interested.

"There now, y'see?" Hagrid grinned.

Hermione looked rather pleased at this - between people like Malfoy, who detested Muggle-borns, and Ronnie, who said that it didn't matter if you were a Muggle-born, Harry thought this had to be the first time Hermione had been ever told that being Muggle-born might be an actual _advantage_.

All in all, Harry thought as he and the others walked back to the castle for dinner (pockets filled with rock cakes they hadn't had the heart to refuse, and Ronnie wiping her face free of dog drool after Fang's enthusiastic goodbye), this hadn't turned out to be such a bad day after all. His visit at Hagrid's had given him a bit to think about, though; Snape's hatred was still nagging at him, and he was almost certain that Hagrid knew more about this than he was saying. What could it be, and why didn't Hagrid want to share?

As they came into the Great Hall, where most of the students had gathered for dinner, Seamus Finnigan waved to them from the Gryffindor table. "Hey, it's Potter's gang!" he called in a cheerful voice, causing several of the other Gryffindors to look up. "Where've you been? Haven't seen you since Potions ended!"

"We've been having tea with a friend," said Hermione primly, moving to find an available seat. "And we're not Harry's _gang_, thank you very much."

However, as they would soon find out, this protest came far too late, and probably wouldn't have done much good in any case: The name that Snape had accidentally given the group during that Potions class had somehow stuck in the student's mind, and after a few days, everyone at Hogwarts was referring to them as "Potter's Gang."

Hermione spent quite some time trying to rectify this, and several times she'd be heard going off on another tirade on how they were _not _a gang, and even if they had been, they certainly didn't _belong _to Harry, and Snape was a lousy excuse for a teacher who shouldn't be allowed to make up such insulting names anyway - but in the end, all she accomplished with this was to stop a few of the students from using the name in front of her, and being docked five points from Gryffindor from an annoyed Slytherin Prefect who told her to stop insulting Professor Snape.

Harry found the entire thing rather embarrassing, but as Ronnie said, they couldn't really control what people called them. The word "gang" wasn't a slur or insult, and it wasn't against the school rules to use, so there wasn't a lot the teachers could do to stop calling them that.

"Besides," Ronnie added, placing an arm around Hermione's shoulders to give her a one-armed hug, "it could be worse. Just look at the group name they've given Malfoy, Grabbe and Goyle."

Hermione didn't try to return the hug, but neither did she shy away. She just turned her head to look at Ronnie. "What are they calling them?"

"You didn't hear?" said Ronnie in surprise, and then her lips quirked up in a sweet smile. "Well, for some reason, _no _idea why, people have started to call them -" (and here she giggled a little) _"- 'the Trolls.'"_

Even Hermione had to laugh at that.

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Okay, don't get too used to such quick updates; I just got a big burst of inspiration and had some extra time to write - but this is actually surprisingly fun, trying to figure out what changes from canon and what stays the same. Turning Ron into a girl actually changes quite a bit, because the small changes bring on more, possibly bigger, changes.

Some of the changes are good, such as Hermione being accepted as a friend much earlier, and the inclusion of Neville in the group. (It makes sense that Harry, as an eleven-year-old boy, would want at least one male friend around to counterbalance the two girls - and Neville has not only made a slightly better first impression, but he's the one most readily available at the time.)

And some of the changes might be a little unnerving. Wasn't Harry supposed to find the newspaper cutting under Hagrid's tea cosy in this chapter, the one that would have clued him in on the robbery at Gringott's? And for that matter, wasn't he supposed to learn about that robbery from Ronnie in the last chapter, _and _get the Chocolate Frog card featuring Dumbledore which contains the important clue about Nicholas Flamel?

But because things are happening differently in this universe, Harry has now missed out on no less than three clues about what's going on behind the scenes. Ronnie didn't tell him about the robbery because their conversation never took that turn, and they instead went to look at Lee Jordan's tarantula. He never got the Dumbledore Chocolate Frog card because he wasn't in the compartment when the trolley witch came past, and when he bought the sweets and snacks off the trolley later the particular Frog with the Dumbledore card had already been bought by someone else. And he didn't spot the newspaper clipping because he had two more people there to talk to and was too distracted throughout.

This might make it a little more difficult for our heroes to solve the mystery of the Philosopher's Stone...


	3. Private Flying Lesson

**I'm on a roll here! But before we start this chapter, I want to take a moment to thank everyone who's left a review; some of them have been very insightful about not only this story, but the canon universe as well (and at least one review brought up a very good point I hadn't really thought much about).**

* * *

**WEASLEY GIRL**

**Based on the _Harry Potter_ books by J. K. Rowling**

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**CHAPTER THREE  
****Private Flying Lesson**

* * *

The next morning, which was a Saturday, most of the students slept in. But Harry, who even during the weekends had usually not been allowed to sleep late (there were, after all, chores to be done and breakfast to be made), woke up just as early as always, and found that now that he _could _lie in if he wanted to, he didn't really want to.

In the end, as none of the other boys in his dorm room showed any signs of waking up, he silently got dressed, exited the room and went down the long spiral staircase to the common room to see if anyone else was out and about this morning.

They weren't. The common room was quiet, which felt strange - usually there were so many Gryffindors here, playing Exploding Snap or Gobstones, arguing about Quidditch, complaining about homework, going through the lessons for the day, or just talking and laughing. Right now, however, only one student was sitting there, hunched over the table and writing something - and it came as no surprise that this student was Hermione.

What was a little surprising was that Trevor the Toad was there as well, sitting on the table next to her and staring at her with his customary confused eyes.

Hermione was completely absorbed in her writing and didn't look up from she was doing until Harry was only a couple of feet away from the table.

"Oh," she said, lifting her quill from the parchment. "Good morning, Harry."

"Good morning," said Harry. "Having a good time with Trevor?"

"Hmm?" Hermione looked over at the toad. "Oh, no - but he was in our dorm room again when I woke up. I found him trying to hop into Ronnie's bed, but when I tried to wake Ronnie, she just shoved me away, called me 'Ginny' and went back to sleep. So in the end I decided to take Trevor with me down here so I could give him back to Neville when he showed up."

"Well, that's nice of you," said Harry. "So what are you doing, then? Getting in some homework before breakfast?"

"No, I finished all my homework yesterday," said Hermione matter-of-factly. "What I'm doing is writing a formal letter of complaint to the school about Professor Snape."

"...oh?" said Harry, turning his head to try and see what she was writing. _"...and with this I want to point out why he is not a worthy teacher,"_ he read. "_Worthy_ teacher?"

"Well, he's not," said Hermione, a tad defensively. "You were there, you saw how he acted. Blatant favouritism, refusal to give the proper aid to those who needed it the most, broadcasting things a Prefect told him in confidentiality, using bullying and intimidating tactics to make students he dislikes look bad, insinuating that one student is, is, _seducing _two others - I mean, we're _eleven!_ What does he think we're doing, does he think we're... er..." she hesitated, apparently trying to think of an example that was sufficiently ludicrous and not too embarrassing to say.

"I have no idea what he thinks, and I don't think I want to know either," said Harry. "Bad enough that I have to spend at least two hours with him every Friday without trying to find out what goes on inside that greasy head."

"This isn't a joking matter, Harry," said Hermione disapprovingly. "A teacher should not be allowed to act like that around his students, genius with potions or not, and Hagrid _did _say Snape always had it in for Gryffindors, so who knows how many other students have done poorly at Potions over the years just because they had him as a teacher!"

"All right, all right," said Harry, holding his hands up to stop her from going on another tirade. "I'm not saying I disagree with you, but do you really think a letter's the best way to solve this?"

"At first I thought I'd go to Professor McGonagall or Professor Dumbledore and just state my complaint," Hermione admitted, "but then I thought it would be a lot more orderly if I did it in writing. They have to at least _listen _to me."

Having avoided one tirade and not wanting to risk another one, Harry didn't tell her that he thought she was being a little too optimistic. But he too remembered how he'd been told that Snape always had it in for Gryffindors, and if he had been allowed to teach here for several years despite that, it didn't seem likely that a measly letter of complaint would change anything. He himself had had a few awful teachers over the years (none of them as awful as Snape but still), and none of _them _had ever lost their jobs, much as they had deserved to.

And it did seem like Hermione's letter of complaint, once she had sent it, ended up being ignored - at least none of them heard anything more about it for several days.

But to be honest, Harry didn't mind this so much, as he had other things to think about - and it was something a lot more exciting and promising than any letter of complaint could hope to be, even if it was against Snape: The coming Thursday, the first-year Gryffindors (together with the first-year Slytherins) would have their very first _flying lesson, _and they were to meet with flight instructor Madam Hooch on the lawn in front of the Quidditch pitch for an introduction to broomsticks and flying techniques.

Flying was the one thing that Harry more than anything else had been looking forward to. Ever since the glimpse he'd had at that fabulous racing broom at Diagon Alley, he had longed for the day he himself could grab a broomstick and rise up in the sky. More than half the other first-years had already been flying for years; the way some of them were talking, you'd think they had been _born _on a broomstick, and they were all more than happy to share their stories of high-speed aerial acrobatics and long flights over the countryside.

Draco Malfoy was, unsurprisingly, one of the worst. His stories were taller and fuller of amazing heights and daring dives than anyone else's and always seemed to include at least one part where he narrowly escaped Muggles in helicopters. If only half of these stories were true, he had to have encountered all the helicopters that existed in the country, plus a few that didn't. Annoying and unlikely as the tall tales were, though, what was worse than anything was Malfoy's utter glee in berating anyone who hadn't been on a broomstick before. Somehow, he had snapped up the knowledge that neither Harry, Neville nor Hermione had ever flown before - and whenever they encountered him after that, he got very eager about telling whoever he was with at the moment how _everyone _knew that eleven was really much too old to be learning how to fly.

"You have to start riding brooms almost before you can walk, or you'll never be a good flier," he'd say loudly to Crabbe or Goyle or one of the other Slytherins as Potter's Gang walked past. "Oh, you might be able to hover along for a bit if you're desperate enough, but it won't be like _real _flying. You might as well be a Muggle for all the good you'll be on a broomstick."

While Harry for the most part wouldn't trust anything he'd heard from Malfoy, he couldn't help but feel a small pinch somewhere in his stomach whenever the insufferable boy began bragging; a tiny part of him that wondered whether it _was _all true, and whether he'd make a total fool of himself come the flying lesson.

But Harry's small pinch of insecurity was nothing compared to the effect Malfoy had on Neville and Hermione. Neither of them had ever so much as touched a broomstick all their lives; Hermione because she was Muggle-born and Neville because his grandmother had strictly forbidden him to even go near a broom. And as the day of the flying lesson grew closer, Neville in particular got more and more nervous about it, something Malfoy quickly caught on to.

"They say if you're clumsy on the ground, you'll be a complete disaster in the air," he hollered after Neville. "Wonder what happens if you're already a complete disaster on the ground? Looks like we'll find out on Thursday!"

Ronnie, the only one of Potter's Gang who had actually been on a broomstick before, clenched her fists every time she passed the Trolls - but whether it was because she was afraid of Snape's threats or whether she didn't want to be picked up and restrained by Crabbe or Goyle again, she didn't try to attack them like she had on the Hogwarts Express. Instead, she spent quite some time telling Hermione and Neville what a brainless git Malfoy was and how she wouldn't believe him if he said the sky was blue.

"Flying's brilliant," she said. "And it's dead easy too. Ginny and I have been doing it since I was seven. Don't tell Mum this," (and here she lowered her voice and whispered conspiratorially, as if afraid her mother would somehow hear) "but we used to break into the family broom shed and borrow the broomsticks without anyone knowing."

Harry chuckled at this and Hermione looked disapproving, but Neville just sighed and didn't seem to find any of it encouraging at all.

The round-faced boy was clearly taking Malfoy's words more to heart than he wanted to admit; each morning, at breakfast time, he'd unnerve the rest of Potter's Gang with predictions about the inevitable accidents he'd have while in the air; predictions that just got gloomier and gloomier for each passing day - and Ronnie's constant reassurances that he was _extremely_ unlikely to fall off his broom and break both his legs, or accidentally kill himself and come back as a ghost to haunt the Quiddidtch pitch for all eternity, weren't much help.

Neither was Hermione, who was already tetchy because she had yet to get a response to her letter of complaint, and whose nervousness about flying was starting to make her rather high-strung. And though broomstick flying was one thing she _couldn't_ learn by heart from a book, she was still making the honest attempt, borrowing all the books she could from the library that so much as mentioned flying or even Quidditch, and would sit around with Neville, listing up all the flying tips she'd read in _Quidditch Through The Ages_ in an increasingly panicked voice.

Tuesday afternoon, two days before the flying lesson, Ronnie pulled Harry aside while Hermione and Neville were sitting in the Gryffindor common room and getting one another more and more worked up with flying tips and lamenting everything that could go wrong. (A couple of the other Gryffindors turned their heads and watched as Ronnie all but dragged Harry over to an empty corner - but since no heavy snogging took place, most of them seemed to lose interest and went back to their individual activities.)

"Look," the red-haired girl said in a hushed voice. "We've _got _to do something about those two. If they continue like this, they'll be nervous wrecks by the time the flying lesson comes around, and I don't trust the Trolls at all."

"You think they'll try something?" said Harry.

"Don't you?" said Ronnie. "Malfoy's been chipping away at Neville's self-confidence all week, and Hermione's not much better. Ten to one the Trolls have something planned."

Harry sighed and nodded; Ronnie's predictions were altogether too plausible, and if there was one thing that made him look forward to the flying lesson slightly less, it was knowing that he'd have to share it with the Slytherins, and particularly the Trolls.

"But what can we do?" he said, looking towards the table where Neville and Hermione were still memorising segments from _Quidditch Through the Ages_. "We can't _force _them to calm down. Unless you wanted to smuggle some of that Calming Draught into their pumpkin juice or something..."

"Nah, you're not supposed to fly if you've had one of those," said Ronnie, "I was thinking something else."

"What?"

_"Private. Flying. Lesson."_ All three words in Ronnie's short sentence was punctuated with a thrust of her finger. "Just a simple introduction course, mind," she continued, lowering her voice a little further. "For all three of you. Get those first-time-flight nerves out of your systems, away from everyone else. No jeering Slytherins, no troublemaking Trolls."

"Er -" said Harry. The idea had some merit. "But do you really think we could get Madam Hooch to agree to give us private lessons?"

"Are you joking? Of course not," said Ronnie. "But we don't need Madam Hooch! _I_ can teach you!"

"You can -!"

"Yeah! I told you, I've been flying since I was seven! I know all the tricks!" Ronnie grinned as if this was the best idea ever. "I know where they keep the school brooms, and I'm sure we can find some place on the school grounds where we won't be seen, long as we're careful!"

Harry looked at the girl's eager face. He was pretty sure that this was a tremendously stupid idea, and suspected it was _very much_ against the school rules, but - well - the thought of getting to learn how to fly, and even before he'd originally thought, was _extremely _tempting.

"Well," he finally said. "We can at least ask Neville and Hermione if they want to try it."

* * *

"Absolutely not!" Hermione hissed. "I can't believe you'd even suggest such a thing, Veronica! It's _dangerous_, it's against the _rules _-"

"It's not dangerous, I know what I'm doing!" said Ronnie. "And nobody'll even know! Look, I know you're nervous about flying, so -"

"- so you thought that since we obviously weren't trusting a professional adult who teaches flying for a living, in controlled and _legal _forms, we'd jump at the chance to be instructed by an eleven-year-old _child _who's entirely self-taught, _and _break several school rules in order to do so?" Hermione glared at her. "Where do you keep your _brains_, Veronica Weasley? Because wherever they are, they're obviously not in your _head!"_

"Er -" said Neville timidly.

"What?" Hermione's head snapped towards him.

"I - I'd like to try it," said Neville.

Hermione gaped at him.

"If we can find a good place, and if Ronnie promises that we'll stay low, then - then I want to do it!" said Neville. "If there aren't any Slytherins there, I think I can manage... get a general grip on things before the lesson..."

"Neville..." said Hermione pleadingly. "It's too dangerous! You could get killed! Or worse, you could get _expelled!"_

"I've made up my mind," said Neville, and straightened himself in an obvious attempt to look resolute and firm - though since Neville didn't really have the figure or the general traits to pull off such a look very well, he looked more like he was thinking about something mildly nauseating.

"That's the spirit," said Ronnie, patting him on the back. "See, Hermione, it's gonna be perfectly all right! Besides, we're Gryffindors, we've gotta take some chances now and then, don't we? I'll go over the school grounds before dinner, I'm sure I can find a perfect place!"

"I ought to tell Professor McGonagall about this," said Hermione, narrowing her eyes.

"But you won't, will you?" said Harry. "Come on, Hermione, if you don't want to do it, at least give Neville a chance!" And give _me _the chance as well, he didn't add.

"I refuse to be a part of this," Hermione huffed. "If you boys want to go through with this idiotic idea, you're just _asking _for trouble. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go read _Quidditch Through the Ages_ once more, and pretend we never had this conversation. And I suggest you all do the same."

"Hermione...!" Ronnie pleaded.

"Actually, no, I'm _not _going to forget this conversation!" said Hermione. "If you do this, then - then I might just _go _to Professor McGonagall and tell her everything! And if she expels the lot of you, don't come crying to me!" With that, she turned on her heels and marched off back to the table, where _Quidditch Through the Ages_ was still waiting for her.

A few of the other Gryffindors turned their heads again at this uncharacteristic display of quarreling within Potter's Gang, but as Hermione ignored them all they quickly went back to their own games, conversations and homework.

"She's not really going to do it," said Ronnie, though she sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than she was trying to convince Harry and Neville. "She's a teacher's pet, but she's not a tattletale."

Harry looked towards the table, where Hermione was sitting with her back to them, and he couldn't help but feeling a twinge of unease and perhaps the start of a guilty conscience. Maybe Hermione was right, and they shouldn't do this. Ronnie meant well, but it would probably be better for Neville to just take the flying lesson together with everyone else, if they were just a little extra observant around the Trolls.

He was about to open his mouth and tell Ronnie this, when he caught a glimpse of Neville's nervous-yet-hopeful expression and immediately knew that they couldn't back out of it now.

And so it was that Ronnie went out alone and was gone for almost an hour before she returned just in time for dinner, and with the whispered information that she had found the _perfect _place.

Hermione refused to speak to her, or to Harry and Neville, for the rest of the evening.

* * *

Early next morning, long before the sun was even up, three of the four members of Potter's Gang were making their way over the school grounds, carrying broomsticks borrowed from the school broom shed. (The shed hadn't even been locked - no wonder, Ronnie said, because anyone wanting to steal those old brooms would be completely mental.)

Everything was quiet. The school grounds stretched out before them, huge and grayish-green in the early morning light, hills and trees and grassy fields with well-trodden paths taking on an almost mystical feel in this empty, half-lit world - and there, on the horizon ahead loomed the Forbidden Forest like a black, jagged mass. The sky was brightening slowly, anticipating the sunrise, and the cold September air did a lot to chase away the initial sleepiness they felt at being up so early.

Harry had wondered if the Quidditch pitch wouldn't be the best place for the practice, but Ronnie said no. "Fred and George are always going on about how Wood makes them practice at all hours, wouldn't wanna risk the team coming out for an early training session," she said.

"I thought they said they didn't have a full team yet?" said Harry, trying to remember the details of all the Quidditch conversations he'd tried to follow along with over the last two weeks.

"They don't have a Seeker yet," said Ronnie. "They got the rest of the team, but not a Seeker. 'Course, Fred and George say they never had any good Seekers after Charlie quit the game, so I expect they'll want to hold tryouts soon."

"Well, don't they need a complete team to practice?" said Harry.

"Nah. Seeker's a very important part of the team, mind, but it's the easiest to practice without. And Wood wants to really build up the team this year, so it's just better if we don't take chances." Ronnie paused for a few seconds, and then added: "Other than the ones we're taking by doing this in the first place, I mean. You all right, Neville?"

Neville, who had barely slept all night (and Harry knew, because he himself hadn't slept much either) nodded in a rather unconvincing way.

"All right then," said Ronnie, pointing out in the distance towards the Forbidden Forest. "There, that's the place I picked out."

"The Forest?" Neville squeaked.

"No, not the Forest," said Ronnie impatiently. "Look _there._ There's a patch of trees between us and the Forest, see? I checked yesterday, there's at least fifty more feet of grass before the Forest begins proper. If we just keep behind that patch of trees, they won't be able to see us from the castle. Even Hagrid wouldn't see us from his cabin, long as we don't fly too high. And we want to avoid flying high anyway, right?"

Neville nodded and took several deep breaths, clutching his borrowed broomstick so hard that his knuckles were turning white.

Harry felt a little sorry for him, but only a little - the feeling of excitement was so big in his mind now that it didn't leave much room for anything else, including sympathy for his friend: _Soon, in only a few minutes' time, he would know what it was like to fly. _ Besides... Ronnie had kept saying that Neville would feel quite differently once he'd actually tried flying, so his nervousness would soon end anyway, wouldn't it?

The small patch of trees turned out to be a little larger than it had seemed from a distance. Ronnie might have exaggerated a little about its distance from the Forest proper, but the grassy field in between, sloping slightly up towards the dark gloominess of the Forest, was wide enough that Harry saw no reason to worry that they should enter the forbidden area by accident.

It wasn't exactly the ideal spot for someone wanting to learn to fly, but for not being seen it was almost perfect. To one side of them, the Forbidden Forest stretched out, gigantic and dark and gloomy, and to the other side a much lighter gathering of trees, through which they could vaguely make out the castle, the greenhouses and the vegetable patches, obscured by branches, trunks and yellowed leaves. The only way anyone would see them here was if they were watching from inside the Forbidden Forest (a thought that Harry, immediately after he'd thought it, desperately wished that he hadn't!).

"All right," said Ronnie again, in a voice so low that it was nearly a whisper. "Are you ready? First thing we're gonna do is make the brooms hover in the air so we can get on 'em. It's dead easy, all you gotta do is place the broomstick on the ground, and then you hold your hand out above it, er, at about the height you want it to hover, and then you command it to rise up!"

Harry and Neville looked at her. "H-How?" said Neville.

"You just - look - you have to _want _it to hover, and it will," said Ronnie, somewhat feebly. "I mean - er - oh, just look at me. _Up!"_ she commanded, holding her hand above her own broom... which twitched, made a slight jump off the ground and then fell down and was still again.

They waited for a few seconds in case the broom should make another attempt and stay in the air this time, but this did not happen.

"Lousy school broom," said Ronnie, who had turned very pink. "No wonder Fred and George are always complaining about them. _Up, or I'll get an axe and chop you up into tiny pieces!"_ she snapped at the broom. And whether it was the threat or just that the broom needed some time to respond, Harry didn't know, but this time, it rose up in the air and stayed there, hovering neatly beneath Ronnie's outstretched hand.

She smiled, breathed out in relief, and afterwards tried to look like she hadn't been worried at all. "See, it's easy," she told Harry and Neville, pulling her hand back and letting the broom hover beside her. "Now you try it!"

"Up!" said Harry - and discovered to his amazement that his broom immediately shot up in the air and into his outstretched hand.

Neville gaped at him.

"Er, yeah, just like that," said Ronnie. "Well done, Harry! Neville, you try it now."

Neville closed his mouth. He looked at Harry's broom, which was hovering beautifully next to him, He looked at Ronnie's broom, which was hovering almost as beautifully next to her. Finally, he looked at his own broom, which was still lying on the ground. He swallowed, stretched his hand out and said, in a voice that was almost a squeak: "Up."

The broom didn't even budge.

"Up?" Neville pleaded.

The broom remained where it was.

"You have to be firm with it!" Ronnie instructed. _"You're_ in charge, not the broom. Just hold your hand out again and tell it _'up!'_ No nonsense!"

"Up!" said Neville. "No nonsense! Up! Up!_ Up!"_

No change. Harry wondered briefly if brooms, like horses, could sense if you were nervous - in which case, any broom would have refused to obey, because Neville was practically radiating nervousness.

Ronnie took a deep breath, slowly let it out again and placed a hand on Neville's shoulder. "Neville," she said in a soothing voice (though Harry wasn't sure whether she was trying to soothe him or herself). "Breathe. Stop panicking. Everything's all right. We're all friends here, nobody's going to make fun of you, nothing bad's going to happen. Calm down, and then try again. Take it slow, and take it easy. Okay?"

Neville nodded. His shoulders sank, and he was quiet for a few seconds. Then, he raised his hand out and said, in a somewhat firmer voice: "Up!"

And this time, the broom reacted. Slowly, much more slowly than Harry's or Ronnie's, it rose off the ground and up towards Neville's outstretched hand. Neville let out an excited cry, but this unfortunately seemed to break his concentration, and the broom fell back down to the ground.

"Oh, bad luck - but you almost had it!" said Ronnie hurriedly when she saw Neville's disappointed expression. "Try it again!"

After a couple of false starts, Neville did manage to get the broom to stay in the air. It hovered, a little more unsteadily than the others, but showed no signs of falling down even when Neville allowed himself a big smile of pride and relief.

"I - I did it!" he beamed. "It's hovering!"

"That's great, Neville," said Harry encouragingly. He'd tried not to get impatient while all this was going on, but now he thought the look on Neville's face had been more than worth all the waiting. This was, as far as Harry knew, the first bit of magic Neville had got completely right since beginning school, and now he looked as if Christmas had come early.

Ronnie looked almost as excited and proud as Neville did. "You did it!" she cheered. "I knew you could! Am I a good teacher, or am I a good teacher?"

"You're the best teacher in the world!" said Neville, staring admiringly at her.

Ronnie went pink again, and there was a pleased undertone in her voice as she continued: "Now, what we do is get on - you just grip _here _and _here_, and then swing one leg over the broom like this - be careful not to fall over, Neville, that's excellent... Like _that!" _Neville's success seemed to have awakened a new and hitherto unknown passion for teaching in her, and she demonstrated how to mount and hold onto the broom no less than twice, getting off her own broom twice more to check that Harry and Neville were on theirs properly.

"And now," she said when she was finally satisfied, "now comes the fun part! Watch me now! You just kick off the ground like _so _-" She placed her sneakers down and pushed off hard, and all at once she shot up in the air, coming to a hovering halt about five feet off the ground.

She grinned down at them, and Harry had to admit that she made it look easy. "Go on, then!" the called.

"Er - you first," said Neville to Harry.

Harry nodded and kicked off the ground like Ronnie had said. All of a sudden he was floating up, higher and higher. The ground vanished from underneath him, and already he was higher than Ronnie. His stomach soared with joy as he went higher and higher, this was _great_, it was _freedom_, it was like nothing he'd ever felt before.

At the slight yelp from Neville, he leaned slightly forward, and the ascent slowed down. Harry felt his stomach do another joyful leap as he discovered that he could steer the broom exactly as he wanted; left or right, up or down, it was all in how he moved. It was so easy - for the first time since he'd began Hogwarts, he'd found something he could do without hours of frustrating trial and error.

He longed to pick up speed and start racing through the air, over the school grounds and maybe beyond, he was certain he could do it... but as this was still supposed to be a secret flying lesson, he managed to reign in the desire and instead just made an elegant turn in the air, lowering his broom again to come to a rest beside Ronnie.

"Blimey," said Ronnie in an awed voice. "Harry, you're a natural!"

"C'mon, Neville!" Harry called, suddenly eager to share this marvellous experience. "This is great! You've got to try it!"

Neville, still on the ground, looked up at them with wide eyes. Then, with a deep breath, he too kicked off the ground and shot up in the air. There was a thrilled expression on his face as he rose to Harry and Ronnie's level, an expression that quickly turned to worry, then fear, as he kept rising, further and further up. Harry realised at once that he'd lost control.

"Oh, no!" said Ronnie, her face paling slightly underneath her freckles. "Neville! Don't let go of the broom, whatever you do! Lean forward and slowly come down... _No, not like that!"_ she yelped, but it was too late: Neville, still with a tight grip on his broom, had thrown his body forward with a sharp movement, and then everything happened extremely fast.

The broom went in for a sharp dive, and in panic Neville threw his head back just before crashing into the ground, and this in turn caused the broom to flatten out and zoom forwards at a breakneck speed. With Neville clinging on for dear life, it flew straight into the Forbidden Forest and in between the trees, and then both rider and broom were swallowed up by the darkness.

Harry and Ronnie stared. For one horrible second, that was all they could do.

Then, almost without thinking, Harry edged his broom forward and shot after Neville. He heard Ronnie's startled voice behind him, calling out his name, and then the dark gloominess of the Forbidden Forest closed in around him and he was surrounded by the huge, ancient trees.

If the Forest had seemed dark and forbidding from the outside, it was worse from the inside. The trees, black and twisted and thick, spread their branches out over him, blocking out most of the sky and cutting off the pre-dawn light. The only sound was the wind whipping in Harry's ears as he flew forward, but even at the speed he was going he could feel the eeriness around him, and the feeling that the Forest was watching him, like dozens of invisible creatures were studying him from afar, told him in no uncertain terms that he wasn't welcome here, that he should immediately turn around and fly back out.

But he had to find Neville.

So, ignoring the feeling, he sped up, moving in the direction he'd seen his friend fly, darting this way and that to avoid the trees that came towards him at a huge speed. (If he hadn't been so busy worrying about Neville, he might have marveled at how easy the broomstick was to maneuver; it was as if he already knew what to do with it.) Deeper and deeper into the forest he went, resisting the urge to call his friend's name just in case someone less friendly would hear him.

After several minutes, and almost without warning, the trees parted Harry once more found himself under the open sky. It might be because his eyes had been used to the darkness, but the sky seemed a lot brighter than it had, and Harry had to squint in order to see.

He was in a large clearing in the forest, open and airy, with a thick carpet of grass and one single, very large in the center - and underneath it lay Neville's broomstick, and on one of the thicker branches sat Neville himself looking shaken but none the worse for wear. Apparently he had managed to avoid all the trees until he came to the clearing, upon which he had crashed into the one tree that was there.

"Neville!" Harry called. "Are you all right?"

Neville looked at him with mortal terror on his face. "H-horses!" he squeaked, pointing down. "Look - big, black horses with bat wings!"

"What?" said Harry, confused. The clearing was completely empty; apart from Neville and himself there was nobody there, much less any big black horses with bat wings. "Where?"

"You can't _see _them?" Neville's look of fear was mixed with one of confusion. "There's three of them, standing right there! They're looking up - oh, no..."

Harry looked down again. There was absolutely nothing on the ground. "Right," he said. "Can you get to your broomstick? Maybe you can call on it like you did before?"

"Not with that one horse standing almost on top of it, I can't!"

Harry looked at the broomstick, which was definitely not almost underneath any horse. Neville must have hit his head when crashing into the tree and was seeing things. "Right, I'll get it." he said, urging his broom to land.

A loud, whinnying-like sound rang out, and Harry felt something invisible bump against him. He almost fell off his broom in surprise, but managed to straighten himself and rise back up in the air, out of reach from whatever invisible creature he'd collided with.

"Er - I felt that!" he said, straining his eyes to look towards where the creature must be, but seeing nothing. The horses were clearly there, just like Neville had said, but somehow they were invisible to Harry. Feverishly, and mentally kicking himself for forgetting, Harry recalled how no Muggles had seen the Leaky Cauldron, and Harry himself almost hadn't either, but Hagrid had spotted it at once. This had to be something similar.

"You still can't see them?"

"No! Er - Neville, do they by any chance look angry?"

"Little bit," said Neville, clutching the branch he was sitting on.

"Right. Er." Harry tried to sound more confident than he felt, but it wasn't easy, knowing that an invisible monster horse was probably angry at him. "You don't have your wand, do you?"

"I can't do anything with it!" said Neville. "Most I ever got out of it was a couple of sparks!"

Harry's mind raced. He barely knew any spells himself; after one and a half week at school the only thing he could do with his wand was make the tip of it light up, as well as halfway transform a matchstick into a needle - neither of which seemed particularly useful at the moment. The only thing he could do right now was fly, but he couldn't leave Neville behind.

"That horse is raising its wings...!" Neville swallowed. "Harry! Fly away before they attack you! I'll be all right!" (His voice was trembling so much that Harry was absolutely certain he wouldn't be.)

"I'm not gonna leave you - look, why don't we -?" Harry had no idea what he was going to suggest, but just then, the trees rustled at the end of the clearing, and out from the darkness, flying on her broom, came Ronnie.

The girl had obviously decided that she couldn't just wait outside the forest, and had followed Harry, but hadn't been able to fly as fast as him. Now she was closing half- closing her eyes and squinting at the light much as Harry had done (it was closer to sunrise, making everything brighter), which was probably why she didn't seem to see them at once.

"Ronnie! Stay back!" Harry called before she could fly closer.

"Harry?" Ronnie blinked and squinted, pulling her broom down to land softly on the grass. Then, her eyes seemed to adjust to the light, because now she looked at both Harry and Neville with an expression of relief - though it didn't look like she could see the horses either. "There you are! Are you all right? What happened?"

"Stay back!" Harry warned her. "There's some kind of invisible horses here!"

"Invisible -? Where?" Ronnie blinked again, this time in surprise, turning her head this way and that to search the clearing for invisible horses.

"Harry can't see them, but I can!" said Neville. "Three of them! They're big and black and bony with bat wings, and they look angry - and two of them are eyeing _you _now!"

"Oh," said Ronnie in a small voice. Then, a look of understanding dawned on her. "Oh! It's gotta be Thestrals!"

Harry had no idea what Thestrals were, but this information seemed to greatly upset Neville. "Those things are _Thestrals?"_ he yelped, looking (if possible) even more afraid than he had before. "They're really dangerous!"

"I know!" said Ronnie, looking panicked. "Are - are they doing anything?"

"They're looking at you..." Neville gulped.

"Right!" Ronnie's voice was thin, breathless and squeaky, and it would almost have sounded comical if she hadn't so clearly been terrified. "I'll distract them, then! You, er, get your broom and get out of here!"

_"They're going for you!"_ said Neville in a mortified voice. _"All three of them!"_

"Harry - _Harry, get his broomstick!"_ Ronnie cried, dropping hers in alarm.

Harry didn't waste a second. He swooped down with his own broom, and this time he didn't bump into anything invisible. Flying low to the ground, he was able to reach out a hand and snatch Neville's broom up, holding it tightly as he rose up again. Just as he was up by Neville again, he heard Ronnie shriek loudly behind him.

"They've got her!" said Neville. "Give me the broom, Harry, we've got to help!"

But just then, Ronnie's shriek dissolved into laughter. Harry turned around to see the girl standing there, seemingly by herself, overcome by fits of giggles as her body jerked around, just as if something invisible was prodding her. For one brief and brainless second Harry wondered what in the world was so funny about this, but then the sudden recognition hit him: This was exactly how Ronnie had acted back at Hagrid's hut, when Fang had got a little too enthusiastic with his greeting, and she wasn't laughing because anything was funny, but because she was incredibly ticklish.

"I don't believe it," said Neville, giving voice to Harry's recognition. "They're not attacking her, they're... they're _nuzzling _her! I think they _like _her!"

"Yeah," said Harry. "Well - that's good, right?"

"It's not good at all," said Neville. "Everyone says Thestrals are bad luck! If they like Ronnie, it could mean something _really _bad is gonna happen to her!"

"No - no, stay away from my face!" Ronnie laughed, her hands waving about in the air in order to try and push away creatures she couldn't see. "Blimey, I can't even see you! Just don't - ah!" There was a slightly panicked edge to her voice.

Harry gulped and ignored the sinking feeling in his stomach. "We have to get her away from them and get out of the forest, right now," he said. "Can you fly?"

"I'll have to," said Neville, eyeing his broom. "But Thestrals can fly too!"

"If they're as big as you say, they won't be able to fly in between the trees," said Harry, hoping against hope that he was right. "Where are they? In front of her or behind her?"

"Front," said Neville. "They're fighting for her attention - What are you doing?"

"Just get ready to follow me!" With that, Harry pulled his broomstick sharply up so that he shot up in the air. He was only going to get one shot at this.

_"HOLD ON, RONNIE!"_ he shouted, and swooped down on the girl, grabbing her by the hand. He felt himself brush against something invisible and heard a surprised whinny, and then Ronnie was shrieking again as they both shot up in the air, with her hanging from his grip.

With some difficulty, because the broom was harder to steer with only one hand, Harry shot forward and flew back towards the trees. He heard the strange whinnying of the Thestrals and Neville shouting something incomprehensible behind him, and then they were back in the dark gloom between the trees, flying wildly here and there to avoid crashing into them. It was a wild and almost uncontrollable ride, with Ronnie (who thankfully had enough presence of mind to grab onto his arm and cling onto it) swinging wildly from side to side, pulling them off-course and a couple of times making Harry feel like his arm was being pulled out of its socket, but through some miracle they avoided crashing until Harry managed to get some control back.

They sped through the Forest again, past the trees, but unfortunately, the broom did not seem to be made with two riders in mind, and Harry couldn't keep it up at a decent height for very long. He tried his best to go up, but the broom flew lower and lower, and then all of a sudden -

Everything was a wild mess of trees, grass, dirt, dead leaves, arms, legs, robes and flaming red hair, and then Harry was lying in a pile of dead leaves together with Ronnie, who was still clutching his hand tightly and halfway lying on top of him. He looked up just in time to see the broom, freed from its riders, continuing in a straight line and vanishing out of sight.

Getting his breath back, he carefully untangled himself from Ronnie, who was staring at the vanishing broom - before her head flopped down into the leaves with a rustling sound, and she she lay still with her face down in the leaves.

"Are you okay?" Harry managed to say, trying to ignore his aching body (his arm felt the worst).

"I don't know," said Ronnie, somewhat muffled because she was still lying with her face in the leaves. "I think every tree in this bloody Forest is out to kill me." She raised her head again and groaned, rubbing her forehead. "Must have been beaten by at least a hundred branches under that flight. That was some flying, mind you... I've never seen anyone do anything like it, and I'll probably be very, very grateful when it stops hurting. Where's Neville?"

Harry looked behind him, but nothing was there; no shadows moving about, no thumping of invisible hooves, and worst of all - no Neville. "I don't know."

"Oh no," Ronnie groaned. "You don't suppose the Thestrals got him?"

Harry could only shrug helplessly. "Are they really as bad as all that?" he said hopefully. "Maybe they won't hurt him. They seemed to like you."

"Yeah, but that was _me,"_ said Ronnie nervously. "I mean - no guarantee they'll like _Neville_ too. I've heard of Thestrals, Charlie always had all sorts of books on animals. They're really savage and aggressive, and they're invisible to most people, except those who -" Ronnie tried to raise herself, winched and flopped back down. "Ouch."

"Are you hurt?" said Harry.

"No, it's just - ow!" said Ronnie, wincing again. "When I fell, I landed on my arse, and it sort of hurts... I'll be fine."

"Oh."

"Never mind that. We've got to find Neville!" With another wince, Ronnie got to her feet, wobbling a little but managing to stay upright. "If anything happens to him, I'll never forgive myself!"

"He has his broomstick..." said Harry, struggling to get to his feet as well.

"Which he can barely fly!" Ronnie's freckled face was a study in fear and guilt. "And _we've_ lost _our _broomsticks! And there are worse than Thestrals in here, I've heard Fred and George talk about trolls and werewolves...!" She trailed off, as if it was suddenly dawning on her that Neville wasn't the only one currently in the Forest.

The feeling of being watched returned. Harry had barely noticed it while flying around, dealing with Thestrals and worrying about Ronnie and Neville, but now, once more he felt as if the entire Forest was watching them, and very much disapproving of their presence. Was it just Harry's imagination, or did everything around them seem to grow a little darker?

"Harry," said Ronnie in a forced casual tone. "You wouldn't happen to remember which way leads back to the school grounds?"

"Well, I think it's -" Harry began, and then stopped. He had no idea. He wasn't even certain if they had been flying in the right direction after they'd escaped the Thestrals, and nothing around him gave any sort of clue as to in which direction Hogwarts was.

"I was afraid of that," said Ronnie in a small voice.

"The broomsticks!" said Harry. "If we find them, we can use them to fly up above the trees and see which way we have to go!"

"My broomstick is still in the clearing," said Ronnie, "and the way yours was going it's probably halfway to London by now. Let's just hope that Neville has his... And that we can find him... Harry, next time I suggest flying lessons by the Forbidden Forest, just do me a favour and kill me!"

_"Kill you...? That can be arranged, little girl...!"_ a sudden voice called out from the darkness, an icy cold voice that made Harry's blood run cold.

All of a sudden, he felt a sharp pain in his forehead, around the area of his scar; it was as if someone had lit his head on fire, and the world blurred around him. He doubled over and clutched his head, seeing through his pain a dark, shadowed figure that came out of the darkness.

_"First-years... in the forest..." _the icy voice hissed. _"And look who it is... how very pleasant to see you here, Harry Potter..."_

Ronnie shrieked again, and clutched Harry, beginning to shake him. "Harry - Harry! Come on! Run!" But Harry could barely move. He would have fallen to his knees if Ronnie hadn't been holding him up, and he could only watch through a haze as the shadowed figure slowly came closer...He felt Ronnie pull on him, trying to drag him along, but he couldn't run, oh, why did his head hurt so much?

Then, still, through his pain, he heard the surprising sound of hoofbeats against grass, the rustling of dead leaves and the characteristic whinny of the Thestrals. The shadowed figure stopped in its tracks and made a sharp turn towards where the sound had come from.

Harry could make out, just, the form of Neville Longbottom coming flying through the air towards them - but, no, the pain must be making him hallucinate, because Neville wasn't sitting on a broomstick but on nothing at all, clutching onto something invisible and looking completely terrified.

Almost as suddenly as it had arrived, the pain in Harry's forehead vanished, leaving behind it only a dull ache. Then, he heard a snort and a strange sort of whiffle, and found something invisible nudge him. He blinked, and as the fog cleared away from his eyes he saw Neville, with a rumpled robe and messy hair, sitting on thin air just above him, looking halfway scared and halfway proud.

And now, Ronnie was giggling again. "Okay - okay! Fine! Fine!" she squealed. "There... There you go, nice Thestrals... Harry, are you all right?"

Harry nodded. "I think so... just got a terrible headache. Don't know what happened... I'm all right now. Where's that shadow bloke?"

"Shadow bloke?" said Neville.

"You didn't see him?" said Ronnie. "He was just here!" But the shadow bloke was gone, without a trace, almost as if he had never been there.

"The Thestrals must have scared him away." said Harry, and suddenly felt a huge pang of gratitude towards the invisible horses. "What are you doing with them, Neville?"

"Er," Neville looked a little sheepish. "Turns out they're not as angry as I thought. Pretty friendly, actually. Don't know if that means I'm going to suffer terrible bad luck or not, but - wow, they really like you, Ronnie."

"Yeah," said Harry, rubbing his forehead to ease the dull ache as he looked at Ronnie trying to pet three invisible horses at once and not doing a very good job of it. "Fang was like that around you too - didn't leave your side the whole time we were at Hagrid's. And Hedwig adored you the moment she laid eyes on you. And Trevor, who always gets lost from Neville, never has a problem finding _you._ Is there something you want to tell us here?"

Ronnie turned a little pink. "All right," she said, sounding more embarrassed than anything else. "Animals... they tend to like me. Not all animals, and not all the time - I mean Ginny's rat Scabbers doesn't care about me at all, and, er, if it's a bloodthirsty predator, then all bets are off... but it looks like we're all right with these. Yeah, we are, aren't we?" she added to the Thestrals, who were snorting in what what was probably meant to be an affectionate way. "Oh, you're cute... At least you sound cute. I think."

"Er - have you always had this, er, effect on animals?" said Neville, looking like he was trying to follow this.

"Well, it's not like I ever _asked_ them to like me, they just do!" said Ronnie. "I don't know why! Charlie's the same way! I don't mind, exactly, it's just that -"

"Well, I'm not going to complain," said Harry hurriedly, deciding not to look a gift, er, Thestral in the mouth. "Neville, do you still have your broomstick?"

Neville looked down. "No, I lost it. Sorry, everything just happened so fast."

"Well, er, we lost ours too," said Harry. "And I don't fancy looking through the entire Forest for them, do you? Not with that - whatever it was - around. Ronnie, d'you think you could get the Thestrals to take us out of the Forest? They've gotta know their way around if they live here, right?"

"Worth a try," said Ronnie. "Dunno if I can make 'em understand me, though."

But it turned out that the Thestrals understood perfectly and were more than willing to cooperate. In the end, Harry, Ronnie and Neville ended up riding one each, and though it felt excessively strange to Harry to ride something he couldn't see, the Forest did seem a lot less scary and forbidding when he was on top of an invisible monster that, by the sound of it, was a savage predator that most other monsters would leave alone. At least nothing else bothered them during the few minutes' brisk trot it took to get to the edge of the Forest, and the school grounds opened up in front of them, blessedly bright and unthreatening.

Dawn had come properly now, and the sun was rising on the Eastern horizon in a spectacular pink and yellow sunrise. It looked like it was going to be a fine September morning, and it seemed doubly fine to Harry because he was out of the Forbidden forest, with nothing worse to show for it than a few scrapes and bruises - and what's more, there still didn't seem to be anyone up and about. With a bit of luck, they could get back to the castle, maybe have a hot shower, and then join the rest of the school for breakfast, and nobody needed to know what they had been doing.

(A shame about the three lost broomsticks, of course, but maybe nobody would notice that they were missing... or maybe Harry could anonymously donate some gold to Hogwarts so they could be replaced. It wasn't as though he couldn't afford it, with the huge pile of Galleons in his Gringotts vault.)

The relief was somewhat subdued, however, by the memory of the shadowed figure. Who - or _what _- had that been? Why had it known its name? And why had it made his scar hurt so terribly? The scar had hurt once before with no explanation, back at the welcoming feast when Snape had glared at Harry, but this had been ten times worse.

"Well," Ronnie finally said, "that was fun. Let's never do it again. In fact, when we learn how to, please feel free to hex me for ever having this stupid idea."

"On the bright side," said Neville slowly, "I don't think I'm afraid of the flying lesson anymore. Whatever happens there, I'm sure it can't be worse than this."

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

* * *

**Author's notes:** Hmm, sharper turn away from canon in this chapter, though hopefully it's still within the realm of the possible and can be traced back to the butterfly effect. Is it a little too early for Harry's first unwitting encounter with Voldemort? It might be, but even in canon Voldemort was possessing Quirrell at this point and trying to find a way to steal the Philosopher's Stone, so it seemed plausible that they'd skulk around the Forbidden Forest, looking for Dark creatures to aid them or unicorns to kill - but given Voldemort's weakened state, they wouldn't be quite up to fighting three Thestrals at once. We'll see how, or if, this brief early meeting between Harry and his arch-enemy will affect the overall plot.

Ronnie's way with animals is actually based on an idea I had when reading the books and noticing how, every now and then (mostly for humourous effect), an animal would take an inexplicable liking to Ron. I just took this hinted-at trait and exaggerated it because it seemed to fit Ronnie - besides, I thought it was funny _and _could be useful both for the story and for distancing Ronnie a little further from canon Ron. Don't worry, she's not going to start taming wild dragons with a single word or anything like that - after all, the Hogwarts Thestrals are quite tame, even if Potter's Gang didn't know this.

I still haven't decided whether Harry should end up playing Quidditch in this universe or not, by the way. On one hand, it is a good way to showcase his one exceptional talent, namely flying, and the sport is a very big part of the wizarding world... but on the other hand _not_ having to deal with all the Quidditch would free up a lot of time and attention that I could spend better on plot-related things.

Any of you readers have any suggestions there? (I can't promise I'll follow them, but I can promise that I'll at least listen to them.)


	4. Being A Girl

**Thanks for all the reviews you've left me! It looks almost like _Weasley Girl _is shaping up to be my most popular story on this site. I've had the subjects of shipping brought up a couple of times - but to be honest, I haven't really decided anything about that as of yet. Like Hermione said in the last chapter, they're only eleven, so for the moment there won't be anything serious at least. What may happen later on is anyone's guess, though.**

* * *

**WEASLEY GIRL**

**Based on the _Harry Potter_ books by J. K. Rowling**

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR  
****Being A Girl**

* * *

The Forbidden Forest loomed around Harry, even darker and creepier than he remembered it. The trees rose like black silhouettes around him, impossibly huge and with branches that stretched out around and above him; it felt almost like giant wooden arms with long, crinkly fingers were trying to grab him, to drag him off into the darkness.

_"Harry Potter..."_ The icy-cold voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. _"How happy I am to see you..."_

Harry wanted to run, but wherever he turned, another tree was blocking his path; he was surrounded. Surrounded and alone - this time there was no Ronnie to hold him up and attract Thestrals to save them, no Neville to show up with an unwitting last-minute rescue.

_"How long I have been waiting for this moment..." _The icy voice grew louder and colder, making Harry's blood feel like it would freeze solid. _"The moment... when I finally kill you!"_

Harry wanted to scream, wanted to run away, wanted to fight, but he couldn't move a finger.

The shadowed man rose up before him, and it looked almost like he was being formed from the shadows themselves, and Harry's forehead exploded in pain as a strange green light filled his vision, blinding him, as the cruel, mocking laughter filled his ears -

Harry opened his eyes, panting heavily. Though everything was still slightly blurry because he wasn't wearing his glasses, he could see well enough to recognise his own dorm room, with the big four-poster bed and the early morning sunlight streaming in through the window.

_A dream. It was all a dream._

Sitting up, Harry grabbed his glasses from his nightstand and put them on, letting the world come into sharp focus again as his breath slowly calmed down. It had all seemed so _real _- the Forest, the shadowed figure, the pain in his forehead...

Clearly, the events of yesterday had left their mark. Harry sat up in bed and pulled the curtains a little further apart to look out at the rest of the room, where his three dorm-mates were still apparently asleep; he could hear Neville's and Seamus's snoring, and Dean's silent, almost inaudible breathing. It was early, but it looked like it was going to be a clear, sunny day - no dark, shadowed figures anywhere.

The worst part was that he still had no idea what that shadowed figure had been, or how it knew his name, or why it had made his scar hurt.

He could perhaps ask Hagrid about it, since Hagrid had to know all about the Forbidden Forest and what sort of creatures lived in there - but he didn't really want to tell Hagrid, whose job it was to keep students away from the Forbidden Forest, about that little excursion (even if it had been mostly by accident), so that idea was out.

He could go down to the library and find some books on Dark creatures - but he didn't really know what he should search for; neither _"dark shadowy bloke," "cold voice," "knew my name"_ nor _"made my scar hurt"_ seemed like very reliable search criteria.

He could ask Hermione, since Hermione read a lot of books and might by chance happen to know what Ronnie and Neville had not been able to say (they knew all sorts of monsters that _might _live in the forest, like werewolves, trolls, giant spiders, hippogriffs, Erklings or Red Caps, but none of them fit the description of the shadowed creature) - but Hermione was still angry at him and not very likely to be helpful. The bushy-haired girl was not exactly _refusing _to talk to Harry, Ronnie or Neville, and luckily she hadn't made good of her threat to talk to Professor McGonagall, but she had spent most of the day yesterday avoiding them. Even Ronnie's attempts at apologies, which had almost become groveling in the end, had fallen on deaf ears.

Harry sighed; he was out of ideas. He pondered taking his glasses off and going back to sleep for another half-hour, when a sudden noise came from Dean's bed, and all of a sudden the tall black boy was on the floor, looking wide awake and incredibly excited.

_"Yippeeeee!"_ he cried. "Today's the first flying lesson!"

"Someone put a sock in him," grunted Seamus from his bed.

"C'mon, Seamus!" said Dean cheerfully. "I know _you're _an old pro with the broomstick, but the rest of us haven't flown a single yard in our lives! This is a big moment for all Muggle-borns and Muggle-raised!"

"It'll be an even bigger moment this afternoon, when the flying lesson actually _starts," _said Seamus. "Until then, I repeat: Someone _please _put a sock in that bloke."

Harry, however, felt his spirits rise. He'd almost forgotten it after his nightmare, but Dean was right! Today _was_ the day of the first official flying lesson! Though quite a bit of the unofficial one from yesterday had ended up being rather awful, the flying itself had been wonderful, and he couldn't wait to do it again. The thoughts of the shadowed man suddenly didn't seem so big or looming, and he climbed out of bed to join Dean in his excitement.

After a few moments, Neville too got out of bed, yawning and looking rather tired.

"Hey, Neville," said Harry. "How's it going? Nervous about the flying?"

Neville shook his head. "Actually, no. I meant what I said... After yesterday, I don't think flying scares me anymore."

"Really?" said Dean curiously. "You've been a wreck about it all week. What happened yesterday?"

"Er -" Neville hesitated, just now realising that he had almost given away the story of the unofficial flying lesson, and clearly not being able to come up with a good story to serve Dean.

"We passed Professor Snape in a dark corridor!" said Harry. He heard himself how ridiculous that sounded, but it was the only thing he could think of at such short notice.

Dean looked at them both like they were weird. Then, he shrugged. "Well, he _is _a pretty scary bloke, can't argue with that. Hey, Seamus!" he called, marching up to his best friend's bed. "Get up! Come on! Flying! Fun! Excitement!"

"Sleep! Bed! Pillow!" Seamus countered, pulling the covers over his head.

Harry laughed and went to get dressed, all thoughts of dark and shadowed people forgotten for now.

* * *

That afternoon, at exactly three-thirty, the first-year Gryffindors made their way over the school grounds to their first official flying lesson, which was to be held on one of the grassy lawns on the opposite side of the grounds to the Forbidden Forest, not too far away from the Quidditch pitch.

Most of the Gryffindors were rather excited at the prospect; Dean was almost sprinting, and Seamus - a lot more awake now - was chatting amiably, full of helpful tips for first-time fliers, while Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown were giggling at the things he said, and Fay Dunbar (the biggest Quidditch fan of all the Gryffindor girls; she surpassed even Ronnie in her enthusiasm) was adding completely unhelpful information about various stunts she had seen at Quidditch matches.

The rest of the students were slightly more subdued - particularly Hermione, who walked on her own and refused to acknowledge either Harry, Ronny or Neville.

"She can't stay mad at us forever, can she?" said Neville somewhat nervously, looking at Hermione's huffy expression.

"She'll get over it," said Ronnie, though she didn't seem too certain. "Er - Harry, you were raised by Muggles. It's not common for people in the Muggle world to stop being friends over something like this... is it?"

Harry had to think about that. He'd never actually _had _any friends in the Muggle world; to them he was simply the "freak orphan" whom Dudley's gang hated, but from what he'd seen of other kids' friendships, they tended to make up again rather quickly. Certainly Dudley and his friends would often come to blows over something and be best pals again the next day.

"No, I don't think so," he finally said.

"All right then," said Ronnie, looking relieved. "It would be a shame if all that groveling I did went to waste."

And that was all they had time to say on the subject before they arrived at the lawn where the lesson was to take place.

The Slytherins were already there, as were twenty broomsticks lying in neat rows on the ground - and so, to Harry's surprise, was Percy Weasley with his Prefect badge, looking just as pompous as he always did, and getting quite a few sour looks from the Slytherins.

"Just doing my duties as a Prefect," he explained. "We Prefects are not only here to be authority figures or to keep other students in line, after all - we're supposed to be here to give aid to students in need. A pair of extra eyes and a helping wand can come in handy at any time, especially at such an unpredictable situation as the first flying lesson."

Ronnie went pink. "You're here to keep an eye on me, aren't you?" she hissed. "Did Mum put you up to this?" She said it perhaps a little louder than she'd intended to, because several of the Slytherins began sniggering at her. The Slytherin girls in particular looked gleeful over Ronnie's obvious discomfort - and Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass, the two most hard-faced Slytherin girls, began cooing at Ronnie in saccharine, babyish voices.

"Awww, poor Baby Weasley need her big bwother to keep her out of twouble?" said Daphne.

"That's Baby Weasley? I thought it was one of the broomsticks," said Pansy. "One of the oldest and ugliest ones."

"No, it's a baby," Daphne giggled. "A freakishly tall and ugly baby. Wook, it's about to cwy!"

Ronnie looked more like she wanted to punch the daylights out of the Slytherin girls, but Percy simply turned around and gave them all a stern look. "I am here to keep an eye on _all _of you," he said, and Harry thought he was giving the Trolls an extra suspicious glance.

It was hard to say whether the Slytherins took him as seriously as he took himself, but at that point Madam Hooch came walking up towards them and everyone became very busy looking alert and attentive.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked as a means of greeting. "Everyone stand by a broomstick! Come on, hurry up!"

Madam Hooch's teaching style was notably different from Ronnie's. She was a professional through and through; she spoke with a lot more certainty and with far less faltering, but also (Harry thought) considerably less unbridled enthusiasm. She certainly didn't beam with pride and joy for every student who got something right, just giving them short approving nods when they managed to follow her instruction perfectly and going in to correct them when they didn't.

Much like Ronnie had, she made the students call the brooms to them from the ground and spent quite some time teaching them how to mount them and what the correct way to hold onto them were - and Harry couldn't help but feel just a _little _satisfied that both he, Ronnie and Neville all got nods of approval while the ever-bragging Malfoy was told that he'd been using the wrong grip for years.

"Very common beginner's mistake," she said, to Malfoy's obvious displeasure. "We call it _'Muggle's Grip.'_ If you're going to use the broomstick to sweep the floor, it's a good grip, but for flying it's not quite optimal. What you want to do is grip it _here _and _here _-" (she physically took his hands and placed them in the correct spots) " - which lessens the risk of losing control over your broom at the first strong gust of wind."

"It's best to weed out such small mistakes in the beginning, before they become dangerous habits," Percy offered in his customary pompous way, something which made Malfoy look even angrier.

"Thank you, Mister Weasley," said Madam Hooch dryly. "If I may continue? Now!" she barked to all the students. "When I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle! Three - two -"

The whistle sounded, and the students all kicked off. Some of them, like Ronnie and (infuriatingly enough) Malfoy had control at once, while others - like Hermione - were struggling a lot more. Crabbe and Goyle, Harry noticed, were the worst; they barely got up off the ground.

Dean was overeager and shot up in the air faster than anyone; he almost lost his balance but managed to cling onto his broom, coming into a landing with the widest grin Harry had ever seen on anyone, exclaiming "That was so cool!" several times before his feet even touched the ground.

Neville, however, rose calmly up in the air and landed quite perfectly; it really did seem like yesterday's happenings had cured his terror for flying. He even got a surprised look of admiration from several of the girls, who clearly hadn't thought he would do so well.

And Harry - Harry felt the same thrill that he had before. Being on a broomstick just felt _right;_ Ronnie had called him a "natural" and that was what it felt like as well. He knew with absolute certainty that he could make his broomstick do exactly what he wanted it to do, and he really had to control himself to come down straight away instead of making a few turns around in the air just to show off.

He did linger in the air a few seconds longer than he needed to, though, taking the extra time to just enjoy being on the broomstick. Soon, very soon, he would be flying all over the place, doing all sorts of wild and fun stunts - his stomach tingled in excitement just at the thought - but for the moment he was content just to stay in the air for a _little _longer... until he, as the last student, finally landed on the grass.

"Very good," said Madam Hooch appraisingly. "Now, for the next attempt, I want you all to stay up in the air a little longer, and make a slow turn to the right -"

As the flying lesson went on, she had them perform simple maneuvers in the air, land and take off at different speeds, very basic things that Harry already knew he could master perfectly.

It was a strange sensation; even with this whole Boy-Who-Lived situation and the strange and slightly unnerving adoration and hero-worship, Harry had never been the _best _at anything before. Both at Muggle school and at Hogwarts, he had been a strictly average student, with nothing in particular to make him stand out in a positive or negative way. But on a broomstick... on a broomstick he could literally fly circles around everyone. The students who had wowed him with their tales of flying were all of a sudden completely outclassed by him - even Malfoy, who as it turned out _was _a genuinely good flier, could not get his broom to obey him with such ease.

As the flying lesson went on, he got a little more daring, making slightly sharper turns, flying over longer distances just a little faster than the others, and when he was completely certain that he could, taking a chance and making a spectacular loop-the-loop in the air, one that earned stunned gasps and looks of admiration from several of the other students, and even an impressed look from Percy.

Madam Hooch, after warning Harry that loop-the-loops were not part of the first flying lesson, did praise him for the excellent execution of it and asked whether he was _quite _sure he was a beginner at this.

"When you're in your second year and have a bit more experience, you should see about joining the Gryffindor Quidditch team!" she said. "If you can fly like this with no training at all, then you should be an _unstoppable _Quidditch player."

"He can be the Boy Who Flew!" said Seamus with a laugh.

"How about the Boy From Krypton?" said Dean, only to discover that most of the others were looking at him like he'd gone mad. (Dean, Harry remembered, was Muggle-born.) "Fine," he muttered. "It was a lousy joke anyway."

Hermione - for once not the top of the class, as she didn't quite seem to trust her broomstick and as a result had some real problems getting it to do what she wanted - gave Harry a rather sour look. Clearly she didn't like Harry receiving praise from a teacher for something he had "illegally" practiced at.

But Hermione's bad mood was nothing compared to Malfoy's. Several times the pale boy looked like what he would most like to do was knock Harry off his broomstick, but every time he looked like he was going to make good of those plans, or every time he tried getting closer to Neville in order to do the same to him, Percy was there and fixing him with a glare. In the end, he had to content himself with sending Potter's Gang some very nasty looks.

Towards the end of the flying lesson, though, he managed to get close enough to Harry in order to growl at him, out of hearing range of both teacher and Prefect: "Think you're all that, do you, Potter?"

"At least I don't grip my broom like a Muggle." Harry knew it was a childish answer, but Malfoy had at that point gone back to his old grip on his broomstick, and it was just too tempting.

Malfoy took a deep breath and looked closer than ever to throw caution to the wind and attack violently, but he managed to control himself. "You are going to _pay _for that, Potter," he said through clenched teeth. "You _and _your little gang. _Especially _those two ugly girlfriends of yours."

"What are you going to do, hide behind Crabbe and Goyle and try to sneer us to death?" said Ronnie, who came up to hover beside them.

Malfoy glared at her. "Nobody asked your opinion, Beanstalk! How much is Potter paying you to be his girlfriend, anyway? A couple of Knuts would be like a fortune to you, I suppose, so I'm guessing he just has to throw you a Sickle and you'll do anything he wants - _ack!"_

That _ack _was probably not meant to be part of his insult, but it was probably all he could think to say when a furious Ronnie slammed into him with her broomstick, almost causing him to lose his grip and fall to the ground. As he flailed and clutched to his broom, Madam Hooch's whistle sounded, loud and sharp.

"Mister Malfoy! Miss Weasley! What are you two doing?" the teacher demanded loudly. "Come down on the ground, now! Both of you!"

"She was trying to murder me!" Malfoy gasped, clutching his broom tightly, his face even paler than normal.

"I'm sorry," Ronnie growled - and looked like the only thing she was sorry about was that she _hadn't_ managed to knock Malfoy off his broom. "I lost control of my broomstick."

"Lost control, nothing! She's a raging loony! I'll get you for this, Weasley!"

Harry opened his mouth in order to defend his friend, but just then Madam Hooch snapped: "Five points from both Gryffindor and Slytherin! Now don't make me ask you to come down here again!"

Ronnie and Malfoy both sank to the ground, glaring at one another. The entire class were watching them now, hovering around on their brooms; the Slytherins for the most part scowling and the Gryffindors looking agitated.

"She attacked me for no reason!" said Malfoy as soon as his feet touched the ground, looking at Madam Hooch with an expression of hurt indignation. "When my father hears about this -"

"That's not true!" Harry called from his broomstick. "Madam Hooch, Malfoy was -"

_"Silence!"_ Madam Hooch thundered. "I don't care what the reason was, you do not try to knock your fellow students off their brooms!"

Percy, who had been watching with a fairly neutral expression, now cleared his voice and said in a formal tone: "If you will allow me, Madam Hooch; I should point out that Malfoy here has been known to attack other students before, and I know for a fact that my sister has been one of his victims before. I am not saying Veronica is blameless in this situation, goodness knows she could use a few lessons in controlling her temper -" (Ronnie glared at him) "- but I have been watching Malfoy all through this, and he has made several moves that made me suspect he was trying to attack Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom in much the same way. The only reason he didn't was because I was watching him."

"I see." Madam Hooch's hawk-like eyes narrowed as she studied both Ronnie and Malfoy. "All right, you two. You are both grounded for the rest of this lesson, and for the next one I don't want to see you come within ten feet of one another. Miss Weasley - go, sit down over there and don't move until I tell you. Mister Malfoy - you go sit over _there_. And rest assured, _will _be talking to your Head of House about your behaviour. I've heard a few too many stories about your little intimidation tactics towards the Muggle-borns this past week."

Malfoy looked like he was ready to kill both her, Ronnie and Percy, but in the end he simply sneered "Yes, Madam Hooch," and went to sit down on the grass as far away from Ronnie as possible.

He spent the rest of the lesson (what little there was left of it) glaring alternately at Harry, Madam Hooch, Percy and Ronnie - the latter two of whom were having a heated discussion while the rest of the class flew above them on their brooms.

"I don't need you to hold my hand all the bloody time!" Harry heard Ronnie hiss to Percy. "I am not a _baby!"_

"Maybe not, but you _are _my little sister," said Percy. "What would you have done on the train if Fred and George and I hadn't shown up? That oaf Crabbe could have seriously hurt you!"

"I'm not afraid of the Trolls! I can take care of myself!"

"No, Ronnie, you _can't!_ You're only eleven! You and Ginny both think you can do everything, but you're wrong!"

"You're just saying it because we're _girls!_ I bet you never said anything like that to Fred and George when _they _were eleven!"

"Ronnie, for your information -"

Harry didn't catch whatever information Percy was about to give Ronnie, because he suddenly realised he was listening in on what had to be a private family argument, and pulled away with some embarrassment, hoping they hadn't noticed him.

However the argument had gone after that, it had set Ronnie in a rather foul mood for the rest of the afternoon. As she walked back to the castle with Harry and Neville when the flying lesson was over, she was scowling a bit, muttering under her breath about the nasty things she would like to do to brothers in general and Percy in particular.

Hermione, who passed them by just as Ronnie was muttering the worst parts, just gave her a stern look. "It's your own fault, you know," she said. "You keep breaking the rules, you're just lucky that you haven't been expelled yet. First that ridiculous idea about a private flying lesson, now you start fighting with Malfoy, out in the open, no less -"

"It wasn't a fight, I just slammed into him," said Ronnie defensively. "Wasn't like he was hurt. Besides, that tosser deserved it. You didn't hear what he said."

"No, but I wouldn't have lost my temper like that," Hermione huffed. "And it's _rotten _of you to blame Percy for wanting to make sure you're all right. I thought it was sweet of him, coming down here to keep an eye on you. Not everyone has an older brother who's always there for them, you know - maybe you should stop being so ungrateful."

"Ungrateful, am I? Yeah, I suppose I am! After all, who _wouldn't _want five older brothers who think you can't do anything?" Ronnie's blue eyes flashed dangerously. "I've got a huge family, and all of them are telling me how they're expecting great things from me and how bloody special I am, being the first Weasley girl in centuries - only then, when I try to actually _do _something, they're there to stop me and saying how I'm going to get hurt, and treat me like I'm completely helpless! I can't imagine why I'm not more grateful for that!"

Hermione blinked several times, clearly not having expected a tirade like this. "Well." she said after a few seconds. "They're just doing it because they love you, and it's still rotten of you not to consider their feelings. A fine way to repay your family, to break school rules and risking your neck like that, just like that private flying lesson of yours -"

"Hermione," Ronnie groaned. "I already agreed with you that it was a horrible idea. I've promised not to do anything like it again. I said you were right about everything. What more do you _want _from me?"

"Not _continuing _to break rules would be nice! Now it you'll excuse me, I have some homework to do!" And with that, Hermione pushed past them and walked off.

Ronnie stared after her, looking halfway forlorn and halfway infuriated.

"Ronnie -" said Harry, and then realised he had no idea how to continue.

"You know what? I _hate _being a girl!" Ronnie suddenly snapped.

Whatever Harry had expected her to say, that wasn't it. "Er - what?" he said, exchanging a look with Neville, who looked just as confused as Harry felt.

"Nobody thinks girls can take care of themselves!" said Ronnie, returning to her original rant topic - maybe because she'd rather talk about that than about Hermione right now. "My family certainly doesn't! Why couldn't I have been born a boy? Maybe then they'd have some bloody confidence in me!"

"Er..." said Neville, turning rather red and looking at Ronnie. _"I _like you as a girl..." As Ronnie gaped at him, he averted his eyes and murmured: "Not that I, er, _fancy _you or anything, I just, er, like you as a girl... I think you make a very... er... nice girl...?"

There was an awkward silence.

"...Okay," Ronnie said, having gone pink and suddenly being very interested in looking everywhere but in Neville's direction.

"But that was a great lesson, wasn't it?" said Harry with forced cheerfulness. "We all did splendidly! And at least Malfoy didn't get away with anything this time."

"Yeah - yeah, that's true!" said Ronnie, who seemed just as eager to change the conversation topic as Harry was. "Okay, so Percy may have been good for something. Don't tell Hermione I said that."

"Can I tell _Percy _you said that?" said Harry wryly.

"Mmm... save it for an occasion when Fred and George are giving him a particularly hard time," said Ronnie. "What do you say, Neville? Think Malfoy's learned a lesson?"

Neville looked up again, with a face that clearer than words told them that he was trying to get his blush under control and not doing a very good job of it. " He - He'll probably make up for it in Potions tomorrow," he said. "Snape isn't Madam Hooch, he'll let him get away with everything."

Harry suddenly remembered the letter of complaint Hermione had sent to the school about Snape. It had been almost a week ago, but what with everything that had happened the last few days, he'd more or less forgotten it - and come to think of it, he hadn't really seen Snape around the last few days either, other than some short glimpses in the corridors or in the Great Hall.

It was too much to hope, really, that Hermione's letter of complaint had actually had some kind of effect - and given Hermione's current cold front, he didn't really want to ask her if she had heard anything more about the letter - but perhaps he had been too hasty in judging the man. Who knew, maybe the next Potions lesson would be better than the first one had?

"You know," he said. "We shouldn't let Snape scare us like that. We've been to the Forbidden Forest and we came out in one piece, even with Thestrals and, er, that shadow bloke. What can Snape do do us?"

"The Thestrals were friendly and the shadow bloke vanished before he could do anything," Neville pointed out. "I didn't even see him."

"But you did see the Thestrals." said Harry. "You were the only one who did."

"Yes. Well." Neville squirmed a little, and looked like he didn't want to talk about that. Harry was about to ask him why, when he went on: "As for what Snape can do... He could make sure Gryffindor never got any House points, he could put us in detention every day of the year, he could convince the Headmaster to expel us, he could slip poison into our food -"

"You think he'd poison us?" said Harry.

"He seems the type. He could hex us when other teachers weren't looking, he could set the Trolls on us and then punish us when we tried to defend ourselves, he could -"

"Okay, okay!"

"Neville," said Ronnie kindly, "you are the biggest pessimist I've ever met."

"Think I'm wrong?" said Neville hopefully.

Ronnie sighed. "No, not really."

* * *

The Potions classroom hadn't changed since the last time they had been here; the gloomy, slightly oppressive atmosphere was not at all lessened by the presence of Professor Snape, who - if possible - looked even more bad-tempered and disdainful than usual.

Harry hurried to find a seat together with Ronnie and Neville, in the most unassuming spot available, while Hermione sat in the back together with Fay Dunbar and made no sign of wanting to sit with the rest of Potter's Gang.

"Before we begin today's Potions lesson," said Snape, looking over at the first-year Gryffindors and Slytherins with icy-cold, black eyes, "I would like to spend a few moments talking about something that was recently brought to my attention."

Harry realised at once what Snape was talking about, as he saw the piece of parchment in his hand. His heart sank and his stomach twisted a bit; if the Potions master was going to bring up Hermione's letter right here in the classrom, it probably wouldn't be to to apologise and promise to behave for the future.

Harry's predictions turned out to be spot-on. "Apparently," said Snape, lifting the parchment up for the entire class to see, "there are those among you who have problems with the way I teach this subject. The Headmaster was kind enough to give me a copy of the -" (and here his lips twisted into a sneer) "- _letter of complaint_ he had received."

He slowly unrolled the parchment, gave them all an unnerving look, and read out loud: "As a new student here at Hogwarts, I regret to say that I find myself disgusted and horrified at the behaviour of one teacher in particular, namely the Potions teacher, Severus Snape. While I understand that I am new to the world of magic and may be missing some of the finer points of wizard interaction, I nevertheless strongly feel that Professor Snape, only after one class, is already overstepping several boundaries, and it with this I want to point out," Snape made a small pause in order to glare at the Gryffindors, and then continued, pronouncing the next words with an extra large amount of ice in his voice: "Why he is not a _worthy teacher."_

The silence in the room was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Every single student was staring at Snape, hanging on to his every word.

"He plays clear favourites in the classroom, showing a distinct tendency to unjustly praise students belonging to his own house and likewise unjustly punish those from other houses," Snape went on."He outright bullies those students that he does not like, and on the whole shows far more interest in insulting or berating his students for not already knowing the subject they are in his class to learn, than he shows in actually teaching them said subject. Furthermore, he breaks the trust placed in him by Prefect, broadcasting things to the class that were clearly told to him in confidentiality, and he makes rather unseemly suggestions about his students, implying things about them that I wish not to repeat in a letter such as this. "

Lavender Brown suppressed a giggle at this part, but quickly grew somber again when Snape looked at her.

"Reliable sources -" (Snape looked like he wanted to strangle said reliable sources) "- have revealed that Professor Snape has divulged in such unprofessional and frankly quite disturbing behaviour ever since he started teaching at Hogwarts. If he had been a Muggle teacher, he would have long since been subject to a serious examination of his work, and would most likely have been in danger of losing his job."

There was a long silence as he rolled the parchment back up and placed it down on his desk. Then he looked up and down the rows of students, making several of them cower slightly under his lingering gaze.

"If anyone here does not like how I teach," he said, his voice raising a little. "they are welcome to leave." He pointed to the door. "Go on. Make both your own lives, and mine, a whole lot easier."

"But -" Hermione gasped as Snape sharply turned his head to stare at her. "But sir, Potions is obligatory... We can't just..."

So fast that they barely even had time to see him move, Snape was over by her side. "Quite correct, Miss Granger," he said. "If you quit Potions, you quit Hogwarts. But since you make it quite clear in your letter that you think yourself more suited than Professor Albus Dumbledore to judge who is _worthy _to teach you and who is not - off with you."

Everyone was looking at Hermione now, some with disdain and others with sympathy - it seemed like none of the students were particularly surprised that the letter had been hers (after all, what other first-year would use the word "unseemly" in a letter?), but none of them dared say anything.

Hermione, for her part, simply sat there and looked mortified over the prospect of leaving Hogwarts. (Fay, who was sitting next to her, looked like she desperately wished she'd chosen to sit somewhere else.)

"Not leaving, are you?" said Snape, lowering his voice again. "Could it possibly be that my teaching style is not the _real _issue here? Perhaps you were simply upset that your little ploy to get three Slytherin students into trouble failed to work, and decided to instead go for the teacher who saw through your scheme?"

Tears began to well up in Hermione's eyes from the anger and humiliation, and this was too much for Harry. He very seldom got angry at unfair behaviour - at the Dursleys he pretty much just kept his head down, made the best out of things and made sure to duck whenever Dudley tried to slug him - but seeing Hermione, _his friend _Hermione, about to cry because of this man...

He raised himself from his seat, only barely registering through his anger that Ronnie had also raised herself and was standing next to him with her fists clenched. "Leave her alone!" he demanded.

"You _are _a bully!" Ronnie cried, almost at the same time.

"Sit down!" Snape snapped, turning towards them. "And unless you two are leaving, in which case I will no longer be your teacher, you will address me as _'sir.'_ Is - that - understood?"

Harry had never wanted so badly to yell profanities at someone - but he had just enough presence of mind to realise that this was probably the stupidest thing he could do. He flopped back down into his seat , reaching out and pulling Ronnie down with him.

"Yes, sir," he said.

Ronnie breathed heavily. "Yes, sir," she said through clenched teeth.

There was another long stretch of silence, and then Snape nodded, looking at Harry, Ronnie and Hermione with an unpleasant expression - and then turned to look at Neville, who had sat there with a terrified expression throughout. "Twenty points from Gryffindor, and a week's detention for all four of you. Yes, you too, Longbottom," he added as Neville made a surprised squeak. "If you're going to be in Potter's Gang, you have to learn to take the consequences. Well?" He turned to look at the students. "Are any of you leaving?"

Nobody moved.

"I trust that is the last I will hear on the matter, then," said Snape, moving away from Potter's Gang and back up to his own desk. He stopped halfway to look at Malfoy, who had raised his hand, and then said, in a much less disagreeable tone: "Yes, Draco?"

"Sir," said Malfoy with a wheedling smile. "I just wanted to say, on behalf of all of Slytherin, that _we _think you are a great teacher."

The rest of the Slytherins nodded, adding in silent murmurs: "Best teacher in the whole school!" - "Potter's Gang don't know good teachers when they see 'em!" - "Think you should be Headmaster!"

Snape didn't smile, because he hardly ever did, but there was a pleased gleam in his black eyes as he said: "Twenty points to Slytherin. Now then, we have wasted more than enough time on this. Today you're going to make a simple antidote for most common poisons..."

Malfoy sent Potter's Gang a smugly triumphant look.

* * *

If Harry was to look on the bright side, there was _one _good thing about Snape's mean-spirited unfairness: it had made Hermione forget that she was angry with the rest of Potter's Gang - or at least decide that her argument with them was not as important as she'd thought.

Strangely enough (or perhaps not that strange, given the general Gryffindor opinion of Snape) she had grown slightly in the esteem of many Gryffindors after the letter of complaint; after the Potions lessons all the girls in her dormitory were flocking around her to tell her that she was "completely mad" and "must be suicidal" to say such things about Snape and even put it in writing - but they said it in such awed and admiring voices that it was impossible to view it as anything other than a compliment.

And even though Hermione did squirm and mumble a little at this sudden attention, it wasn't hard to tell that she liked it at least a little.

But it was with a look of utter devastated betrayal she came to join the rest of Potter's Gang for dinner that evening.

"I - I talked to Professor McGonagall," she said, sitting down next to Ronnie and looking more miserable than she ever had before. "I told her everything Professor Snape had said and done, and how unfair it all was. She said - she said that she sympathised with me, but that Snape was within his full right to punish his students how he saw fit, that she had no authority to overturn any of his punishments, much less tell him how to teach. She even said I shouldn't bother going to Professor Dumbledore about it, because Dumbledore already knew and had confronted Snape about it the moment he got my letter."

"Doesn't seem like it made much impression on Snape," said Harry. "If anything, he was worse today."

"That's what I said, too," said Hermione. "And you know what McGonagall said to that?"

"What?"

"Nothing! She just dismissed me! Just like that! She always struck me as a fair teacher, you know, strict but fair, but she didn't even reply to that, she just said I should go eat my dinner! And now I'm stuck with detention - I've never had detention in my life, and now I have an entire week of it, and I've lost forty points for Gryffindor in one week, and I don't _get _it! What have I done wrong to deserve this? What if this goes on my permanent record, and I won't be able to get the job I want because -"

"Hermione!" Ronnie grabbed her by the shoulders. "Breathe!"

Hermione took a deep breath, which was good, because her face was turning red and once again, tears were forming in her eyes.

"Right," said Ronnie. "Look - at least you're not alone in this, right? Harry and Neville and I, we're right there along with you."

"But it's so _unfair!"_ Hermione sobbed. "And you three didn't even do anything to earn that detention!"

"Hermione," George said from a little way down the table. "Chin up. Life isn't fair, and school is even less fair. Besides, Snape's horrible to everyone. I've lost count over how many points he's docked me and Fred, or how many detentions he's given us," said Fred from beside his brother. Really, it's like a rite of passage here for everyone not in Slytherin. Until you've got detention or points deducted from Snape, you're not really a Gryffindor."

"Even perfect Percy had a couple of points deducted from Gryffindor thanks to Snape," said Fred from beside his bother, leaning back with a nostalgic look in his eyes. Remember that? It was his first year, and after he'd been gone a few weeks he sent a long letter home complaining about how Snape had taken five points from Gryffindor because Percy had tried to correct him on how to spell 'asphodel.'"

"One of his finest moments," George agreed, casting a surprisingly fond look at Percy, who was sitting with the other Gryffindor Prefects. "The moments where we can truly say we're proud of having Percy for a brother are few and far between, but that was definitely one of them!"

"Shut up," said Percy and went back to talking to his fellow Prefects.

George sniggered and then turned back to Hermione. "Point is, on one side you've got the teachers, and on the other side you've got the students. The two sides are sort of working towards a common goal - getting the students to one day leave school without too heavy injuries - but they're not the same side. Anyone who tells you differently is lying."

"Exactly, " said Fred. "It's why no teacher will ever openly talk bad about a fellow teacher in front of the students, and it's also why students who rat out fellow students to teachers are seen as traitors."

"Not _seen as_ traitors, _are_ traitors," George corrected him.

"Right," said Fred. "Silly me. _Are_ traitors."

Hermione wiped her eyes with her sleeve and looked at the twins. "That," she said, "is no doubt the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

George shrugged. "Give it a couple years. When you're the ripe old age of thirteen, like us, and have been around Hogwarts a bit, we'll see if you still feel the same way."

"Ronnie," said Hermione as the twins returned to their dinner. "I don't want to insult your family or anything, but I'm seriously questioning your brothers' sanity right now."

"I've been doing that for years," said Ronnie. "But they're right about one thing. A week's detention's not the end of the world, and we'll face it together, right?"

"I suppose," said Hermione, looking a little happier. Then she looked from Ronnie, to Harry, to Neville, bit her lip, and said: "I'm sorry."

They looked at her. "Sorry for what?" said Harry.

"For - for being such a pain the last couple of days," said Hermione. "I just - I wanted us to be friends!"

Harry, Ronnie and Neville exchanged glances. "Hermione," said Harry. "We _are _friends. Aren't we?" he added, noticing how strangely hopeful his voice sounded at that.

She smiled at him. "I'd - like to be," she said, somewhat awkwardly. "But - I've been horrible. I suppose I wanted to protect you. I didn't want to see you get hurt, or expelled, and when you wouldn't listen to me I just got so _angry_... and then I couldn't _stop _being angry even when you apologised, and now you're all in detention because of me, and I'm really sorry - _Ronnie!"_ she added, sounding a little shocked, because the red-haired girl had thrown her arms around her and was hugging her tightly.

"I'm sorry too!" said Ronnie. "I'm sorry I didn't listen to you, and you were right about everything! We had an _awful_ time, and if I hadn't just scoffed at you -"

"It's - it's - okay," said Hermione, looking a little panicked. "I - I should have been nicer about it - you can let go now."

"No," said Ronnie, continuing the hug, and Hermione finally just sighed and let her carry on, somewhat clumsily wrapping her arms around Ronnie to return the hug (and was that a small smile Harry could see on her lips?).

"Awww, look, they wuv each other," came a voice from father down the table.

"Shut up, Fred," said Ronnie without letting go of Hermione, to general laughter from the Gryffindors who were paying attention to the scene.

"I'd say 'let's never fight again,' " said Neville, looking at the two girls, "but that's not very realistic, is it? I mean, everyone fights every now and then, don't they?"

"How about 'let's promise to always make up after we fight'?" Harry suggested.

"That works," said Neville happily. "Are we supposed to hug too now?" he added, looking at Harry with a slightly nervous expression.

"Do you want to hug?" said Harry.

"Not really, no. Especially not here at the dinner table."

"Good, me neither. We could shake hands if you like."

"What, right here in front of everyone?" (Harry couldn't decide whether Neville meant this as a joke or if he was genuinely concerned about shaking hands with someone in front of a crowd.)

"Oh, you _boys,"_ Ronnie snorted. "I take back everything I ever said about wanting to be one. I'm _glad _I'm a girl."

Harry and Neville both laughed. After a few moments, so did Hermione and Ronnie. The four members of Potter's Gang were the best of friends again.

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

* * *

**Author's notes:** I was going to get around to the actual detention in this chapter (and I have something planned for that!), but then that last scene, with Potter's Gang repairing the small tear their friendship got in the last chapter, just seemed like such a perfect note to end on that I decided to end the chapter there.

After thinking it over, I decided _not _to have Harry play Quidditch for his first year. It might change for later years, but since the fist flying lesson went off without a hitch, a more confident Neville and no Remembrall stealing, Professor McGonagall did not discover just how amazing Harry was as a potential Seeker. So no Nimbus 2000 or "youngest Seeker in a century" in this world - and also no midnight duel, and no subsequent discovery of Fluffy! The kids are missing out on every single clue in the book! (It may change in the next few chapters, though. Just saying.)

Final note: You might have noticed the name "Fay Dunbar" in this chapter. For those of you who don't know, this isn't an OC - the name and personality is taken from the Harry Potter video games, where this is the name given to one of the two unknown Gryffindor girls in Harry's year (the books only name Hermione, Lavender and Parvati, but there are two more). Fay also appears in the movies (her name isn't mentioned, but it's clearly the same character), so I think I can call her a semi-canon character at least. She's not going to play a big part in this story, but I may occasionally use her in scenes when I need an extra Gryffindor girl and for whatever reason can't use Lavender or Parvati.


	5. Detention In The Dungeon

**Here we go again! (Yes, it's been a little longer since the last update - I told you not to get too used to the quick updates.) It's amazing how one change can lead to so many changes in the story... but of course, it's still early in the year. As you've probably guessed by now, this is not, and is not meant to be, just a rehash of canon. Things are going to diverge, possibly more than they already have, but I'm going to try best as I can to keep in believable that things _could _have taken this turn within the canon world.**

* * *

**WEASLEY GIRL**

**Based on the _Harry Potter_ books by J. K. Rowling**

* * *

**CHAPTER FIVE  
****Detention in the Dungeon**

* * *

If Potter's Gang had hoped that they would at least get the weekend to relax and catch up on their homework before their week of detentions began, they were disappointed. During breakfast on Saturday, they received instructions (via a note casually delivered by one of the school owls) to report to Snape's office straight after breakfast, with an additional comment that they should not expect to be done with the detention for the day until dinnertime.

"All right," said Harry as they made their way towards the dungeons (where Snape's office, unsurprisingly, was located). "Let's just get this over with. What usually happens in detentions?"

"I have no idea," said Hermione. "I never had detention in Muggle school, and I'm guessing Hogwarts detentions are different anyway."

"I heard that sometimes students on detention are sent into the Forbidden Forest," said Neville. "Then again, it was Fred and George who said it, so I don't know..."

"We should be right at home, then," said Harry, in an attempt to lighten the mood a little - but he realised almost at once that he hadn't succeeded.

"Usually, they have you do some work that needs to be done," said Ronnie, who after all had two very mischievous older brothers. "Cleaning some room that hasn't been cleaned in a while, tending to plants, sorting out Potions ingredients, things like that."

"Oi! Ronnie!"

"Wait up!"

The sudden voices belonged to Fred and George, and Potter's Gang turned around as one to see said mischievous older brothers come running up to them across the Great Hall.

"Glad we caught you before you got down to the dungeons," Fred panted. "Couldn't let our baby sister go into a day-long detention with Snape without giving her this." He pulled a small parcel wrapped in brown paper out of his pocket and handed it over to Ronnie.

"What's this?" Ronnie looked at the parcel with equal parts curiousity and suspicion.

"This, dear sister, is a small snack prepared for you by your loving brothers, since Snape's not very likely to let you take a break for teatime," said George. "Be a good girl and share with your friends, will you?"

"Er... Thank you," said Ronnie, looking a little embarrassed and quickly sliding the parcel down into her own pocket.

"That was awfully nice of you," said Hermione approvingly.

"It's just the sort of people we are," said George, his voice an exaggerated parody of Percy's characteristic pompousness. "Just make sure Snape doesn't catch you eating those snacks, or he's guaranteed to confiscate them. Wouldn't want that, would we?"

"Ronnie-honey gets cranky if she doesn't have her tea, after all," said Fred. "We'd be looking at a huge temper tantrum."

Ronnie turned pink. "Don't call me that! Why do you keep calling me that?"

"Because you always look so cute when you go all pink," Fred sniggered. "Besides, it's our right, nay, our _duty _as older brothers to call our baby sister by embarrassing nicknames in front of her friends."

Ronnie opened and closed her mouth. "Why do you always _do _this?!" she suddenly blurted out. "You do something nice, and then, just when I think it's sorta okay to have you as brothers, you immediately turn around and ruin it by acting like a couple of gits!"

"That's the sort of people we are too," said George lightly. "One day, you'll look back on this and realise that your time with us was the happiest time of your life."

"Only if the rest of my life consists of being tortured by vicious hags," said Ronnie sourly.

As one, the twins dramatically clutched their hands in front of their chests and winced as if in pain.

"Oh, that stung!" said Fred. "What a way to talk to your loving older brothers, who only want the best for you and never think of themselves."

"But speaking of Snape -" said George.

"Were we?" said Fred.

"Yeah, just now. I told Ronnie to _'make sure Snape doesn't catch you,'_ remember?"

"Oh, yes, pardon me, I think I must be getting a little slow in my old age," said Fred. "All right, we were speaking of Snape. What about him?"

"Well, just that Ronnie and company best be off to meet him. He tends to get a little bit grouchy if he's kept waiting. Speaking from experience here."

"Right, good point. Off you go, children! Be brave in the face of adversary, that's the Gryffindor way!"

Harry watched Fred and George as they turned and walked away, before glancing over at the still-rather-pink Ronnie. He wanted to say something encouraging to her, but had no idea what - the relationship between Ronnie and her brothers wasn't like anything he'd ever experienced before. One moment they were being protective and looking out for one another, the next they seem to take great pleasure in hurting each other's feelings - and then they'd go right back to looking out for one another. Were all families like this?

"Gits," Ronnie murmured.

"I'm sure they mean well," said Harry, and realised almost at once that this was _not _the right thing to say.

Ronnie just looked at him with an exasperated expression. "Of course they _mean _well!" she said. "They always _mean _well! But they're just so - so -" she searched for a good word to call her brothers, but apparently couldn't think of any, because she just sighed and shook her head.

After a few seconds in which nobody could think of anything to say, Neville finally cleared his throat. "We - we'd better get going," he said. "I'm not looking forward to spending time with Snape, but I really don't want him to get angrier at us than he is."

They walked the rest of the way in ominous silence, down the cold and dark passageway that led to Snape's office. There was almost no light; no windows and only a few faintly glowing oil lamps placed much too far apart and doing little more than making the shadows longer and darker. A small number of doors were placed sporadically on each wall, all of them plain and unadorned and leading to rooms unknown. One of them presumably led to Snape's office, but which one? They were all unmarked and impossible to tell apart.

"This is ridiculous," Ronnie grumbled. "How does Snape expect us to even find this office of his? He should have taken us down here himself or at least given us a map - Oh!"

She never got further than this, because just then a shadowy figure appeared out of the darkness.

For half a terrifying second, Harry thought it was the shadowed figure they'd met in the Forbidden forest - but no, he saw almost immediately that this one moved completely differently, with a nervous and halting kind of gait... And then, when the figure saw them and gave a terrified little squeak; the sort of sound that could only come from one person in this school, there was no doubt anymore.

"Hello, Professor Quirrell." said Harry.

"P-P-Potter!" the characteristic voice of Quirrell stuttered, as she figure haltingly came closer. "Wh-what a surprise to see you here! Oh, and G-G-Granger. And L-L-Longbottom, and W-W-W-"

"Hi, Professor," said Ronnie, rather than wait for him to stutter his way through her name.

Quirrell came closer, his features halfway illuminated by the nearest oil lamp, making shadows dance across his face and his ridiculous purple turban when he trembled - and he trembled almost constantly. "Weasley," he finished. "H-hope you're not l-lost down here? I was just, er, er, I was just -"

"We're looking for Professor Snape's office," said Harry, deciding that he wasn't really in the mood to hear whatever stuttered story Quirrell was about to tell them about _his _reasons for being down here. "Do you know where it is?"

"Oh, er, yes, c-certainly," said Quirrell. "Oh, oh, yes, I-I remember. O-on your way to d-detention, are you?"

Harry nodded.

Quirrell looked around, as if afraid they were being overheard, and lowered his voice. "I-I always thought P-Professor Snape was much too harsh with his p-punishments," he said, looking genuinely sympathetic. "S-seems like he's got it in for you four in p-particular, doesn't it? Especially you, P-Potter."

"You noticed that too?" said Harry, slightly surprised. Quirrell was the first adult he had talked to who outright admitted that Snape's treatment of Potter's Gang was something out of the ordinary.

"W-Well, I _am _the D-Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," said Quirrell, straightening himself a little. "In my job you need to n-notice such things. Many Dark wizards pick out one target in particular... they can follow him around for days, weeks, even m-months if necessary. Then, when least expected... they _strike!" _He made a swift, swiping motion with his arm - and then jumped back, clearly having startled himself with it.

Hermione looked shocked. "Are you saying that Professor Snape is a Dark wizard, sir?" she said, causing Neville to let out a terrified squeak in much the same way Quirrell had.

"A Dark wizard like Voldem - I mean, like You-Know-Who?" Harry caught himself when the first syllable of the name made Quirrell look like he was going to have a heart attack.

"I w-w-w-wouldn't d-d-dream of accusing one of my c-c-c-c-colleagues of something so h-h-horrible," said Quirrell, his stutter even worse than usual. "But, but you h-h-have to be c-c-c-careful, eh? N-never know wh-where the next t-th-threat is going to come from!"

Harry looked at his three friends. Neither of them looked any more eager to visit Snape's office after this conversation.

"W-w-well, let me show you S-S-Snape's office!" said Quirrell hurriedly. "It's n-not easy to f-find unless you know where it is!" He beckoned for the kids to follow him, and then walked about three steps until he reached the closest door, where he stopped and made a sort of triumphant motion towards it. "Th-this is it!"

The door looked no different from any of the others, but Quirrell seemed certain enough, so Harry swallowed the vaguely nauseous feeling that threatened to rise up inside him and went up to the door to knock on it -

- when it suddenly opened with a loud creak. Harry took a step backwards, and Quirrell must have jumped at least a foot, because there stood Snape, his skin looking unhealthily pale in the darkness of the room.

"H-h-hello, Severus!" said Quirrel, cowering and sending him the world's most nervous smile. "J-j-just helping the ch-ch-children finding your office..."

Snape did not return the smile. He just looked at Quirrell with an expression of utter contempt, which caused the nervous man to take a few more steps backwards, murmuring: "Er, I, I'm in a h-h-hurry, excuse me..."

Just as Quirrell turned to run away, Snape turned his head back towards Harry, and in that moment, Harry felt a sharp, stinging pain in his forehead. With a wince and a gasp, he raised his hand towards his scar, but the pain was gone as soon as it had appeared, and Harry blinked at Snape as the panicked footsteps of Quirrell vanished down the passageway.

"I hope you're not going to tell me you have a headache and must be excused from your detention, Potter?" said Snape coldly.

"Er - no, sir," said Harry. "It was just, er, a twinge of pain... I'm all right now."

Snape looked suspiciously at him for a moment, and then stepped aside and beckoning them to walk into the office. "Enter, then."

One by one, Potter's Gang entered a room that was even darker and more forbidding than the Potions classroom, with dozens (if not hundreds) of bottles with revolting-looking potions, and jars with even more revolting-looking ingredients for potions, all standing on various shelves all over the shadowy walls. The fireplace was dark, the light coming from the oil lamps hanging on the walls was dim. It was, in short, just the sort of office Harry would have expected someone like Snape to have - with one exception: He wouldn't have thought Snape was the type to have a magnificent full-body mirror in his office, much less one that went almost as high as the ceiling, had an ornate gold frame and stood on clawed feet.

The mirror, in fact, looked so misplaced that it had to immediately draw the eyes of anyone who entered; it looked like it belonged in the chamber of one of those ridiculously wealthy women in the soap operas Aunt Petunia watched, not in the otherwise spooky office of a Potions Master who showed no sign of ever caring about his appearance. (Then again, Harry noted, it was exceptionally dirty and grimy; so much, in fact, that it would be hard to see yourself in it - and that _did _fit Snape.)

"Er," said Ronnie. "Nice mirror, sir?"

Snape shut the door behind them. "Since you appreciate it so much, Weasley, your first task will be to clean and polish it." He pointed to a bucket, a sponge, a few pieces of cloth and a bottle of what was probably some kind of cleaning solution. "Front and back, and take special care with the carvings on the gold frame. If I see so much as a spot or a speck of grime anywhere on the mirror when you are done, you will go through it all over again with a toothbrush."

Ronnie looked at the mirror, which was much larger than she herself was, and the ornate frame, with intricately detailed carvings. Her face fell.

"When you are done with that," Snape continued, "you will help Potter, Granger and Longbottom sort and re-label all the jars with potions ingredients. Tomorrow you will do the same to all the potions ingredients in the Potions classroom, so I would strongly advise you to make sure you have finished here by dinnertime, otherwise you will have to return here after dinner to finish up."

Somehow, this wasn't quite as nasty as Harry had imagined it would be - even if he was definitely not looking forward to many hours here in Snape's cold and forbidding office, or to several hours tomorrow in the dark and gloomy Potions classroom.

"Well," said Snape, glowering at them. "Get started."

Ronnie tentatively went over to the mirror, but Harry, Neville and Hermione remained in place, looking first at all the various jars and boxes, then at one another. Harry could see the same confusion in Neville's and Hermione's faces as he felt himself: None of them had the faintest idea where to begin or how Snape wanted the ingredients sorted.

"What are you waiting for?"

"We - don't know where to begin, Professor," said Harry.

"Are you telling me," said Snape with a nasty tone in his voice, "that Miss Granger doesn't know how to sort Potions ingredients? She, who knows all about what makes a _worthy _teacher?"

"Couldn't you just show us -" Neville began in a timid voice.

"I wouldn't dream of ruining Miss Granger's chance to show me how a _worthy _teacher handles dangerous Potions ingredients."

This was too much for Hermione. "You are _not _a worthy teacher!" she exploded. "Worthy teachers actually _teach _their subject, they don't bully their students for not already knowing them! If we were in the Muggle world -"

"But we are _not _in the Muggle world, Granger!" Snape snapped, silencing her. "You may have got away with this kind of attitude towards your Mathematics or Science teachers, but here at Hogwarts you will treat your teachers with the respect they deserve!"

Snape towered over them, and at that moment, under his hateful stare and in the dark gloom of his office, Quirrell's stuttered warnings about Dark wizards came all to easily to mind.

"Don't kill us!" Neville burst out.

The anger on Snape's face was ice cold as he opened his mouth to answer - but before he could, a startled yelp came from the other side of the office: _"Bloody hell!" _

Ronnie was standing in front of the still-dirty mirror with a cloth piece in one hand and a bottle of cleaning potion in the other, staring at her own unclear reflection with wide-open eyes and a look of absolute astonishment.

Harry didn't miss a beat; glad for an excuse to escape Snape's stare, he ran over to her. "What's wrong, Ronnie?" he said.

Ronnie pointed at the mirror. "That's - that's me!" she said, her voice sounding awed.

"Well, it _is _a mirror," said Harry, looking towards the grubby surface of the mirror and finding it surprisingly difficult to see anything at all.

"Yes, but -" Ronnie blinked and leaned closer to the mirror. "I look different... older..."

All of a sudden, Snape was behind them. "I told you to _clean _the mirror, Weasley, not _gawk _at it," he said. "Step away from it. Granger, Longbottom, get over here!"

Hermione and Neville came up to them, Hermione looking angry and defiant and Neville looking like he was close to turning around and running for his life.

"I want you all to understand something," said Snape, looking at all four members of Potter's Gang, one by one. "This mirror is one of a kind. It is over a century old, and we still haven't discovered all of its abilities - nor do we know just how well the magic within it will react to any kind of outside influence. So it should be treated with respect at all times. Assuming, that is, that you four are capable of treating _anything _with respect."

"But -" Ronnie began, but fell silent when Snape fixed her with a glare.

_"But,_ as you keep demonstrating that you clearly have no such capabilities," the Potions master went on, "perhaps I should simply resort to threats. If either of you do _anything _to this mirror - _anything at all _to potentially upset or alter the magic within it - I will personally see to it that you are expelled, _after _I have taken every single point from Gryffindor to ensure that you leave Hogwarts in complete disgrace. And Weasley," he added, turning to Ronnie, "if you can't clean the mirror without getting distracted by your own reflection, I'm certain I can find something else for you to do."

Ronnie glowered, but didn't answer.

"If this is all quite clear -" Snape began, but was cut off as the door to his office flung open, and Quirrell rushed in, looking more wide eyes and terrified than ever before, and breathing heavily if he had been running.

"P-p-potions classroom!" he panted, waving his hand frantically behind him. "S-s-someone's t-t-trashed it, I just went past and was a-a-awful...!"

Snape actually looked shocked for a moment or two. Then, his head snapped towards Potter's Gang, and his eyes were more furious than ever. "You -!"

"We haven't even been _near _the Potions classroom!" said Harry.

"J-j-jars are smashed, desks turned over, d-d-dead spiders all over the floor...!" Qurrell moaned.

Snape took a deep, angry breath and glared at Harry. "Stay here," he said through gritted teeth, his shoulders shaking in silent, barely-controlled fury. "None of you touch anything, especially not the mirror!"

With that, he swept out of the room and vanished down the passageway. Quirrell staggered back and forth a few times and then ran after him, leaving Potter's Gang alone in the office.

There was a long silence as they looked at one another in utter surprise and confusion.

"Wh-who would trash the Potions classroom?" said Neville, momentarily stuttering just like Quirrell.

"Someone who hates Potions?" said Ronnie.

"Someone who hates Snape," said Harry.

"They're going to give us the blame for this," said Hermione with a tone of certainty. "The way things have been going lately? They'll blame us for everything. Snape's going to say that we were the only ones who would do such a thing, and nobody's going to take our word over his!"

Harry, Ronnie and Neville all looked at her. "What happened to your usual tirades about how the teachers were fair and how they had to listen to us?" said Harry.

"That's in the Muggle world," said Hermione crossly. "As Snape just pointed out, we're not in the Muggle world anymore. I'm beginning to think Fred and George were actually right - teachers _do _band together against students here!"

"Quirrell seems like he'd be on our side..." said Neville hopefully.

"Quirrell's too afraid of Snape to say anything against him out in the open!" said Hermione. "You saw how he acted around him!"

"Can't say I blame him," Neville murmured. "I'd rather face the Forbidden Forest again than Snape when he's angry... What is it, Harry?"

Harry felt a sense of dread; Neville's words had given him a very unpleasant thought. "Ronnie," he said. "That shadowy bloke we met in the Forest... The one who threatened to kill us... _What if that was Snape?"_

Ronnie gasped, her eyes going wide. Neville and Hermione just stared.

"Listen," said Harry. "When I met that shadow bloke, my scar started hurting terribly. And my scar has only hurt two times other than that. Once at the welcoming feast, and once today, just outside this office. Both times, Snape was glaring at me!"

There was another long silence.

"Bloody hell," said Ronnie in a hushed voice. "So Snape really _could _be a Dark wizard."

"There is _something _strange about him, that's for sure," said Hermione. "Take this mirror, for instance. Why is he so eager to get us to look into it?"

"Er," said Ronnie. "Didn't he just tell us to stay away from it?"

"He goes out of his way to call it to our attention, immediately sends you over to clean it, then when you see something in it he calls all of us over to it and tells us that it's a unique, one of a kind object with unknown power," said Hermione impatiently. "Then he warns us to not do anything with it, threatening to expel us, and then he _conveniently _leaves alone with it. He _wants _us to look in that mirror. I just wish I knew _why_... What _is_ it with this mirror that he wants us to see?"

"Nothing good, I'll bet," said Neville, who seemed all too ready to believe the worst of Snape. "What did you see when you looked into it, Ronnie?"

Ronnie turned pink again. "It was weird," she said, sounding uncharacteristically shy.

"Well, what was it?" said Hermione.

"I saw myself, but it was a, well, a different me. I looked older, er, and, well, _pretty."_ Ronnie's pink colouring turned a few notches brighter. "I mean, bloody hell, I looked _gorgeous._ Not like the lanky, great beanstalk I am now. "

"You're not a lanky, great -" Neville began, but cut himself off as Ronnie placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Neville. Please don't," she said. "I've always known I wasn't pretty. It's okay."

"But -" said Neville helplessly.

Harry wanted to say something, but he had no idea what. In truth, there were many nice things he could say about Ronnie, but "pretty" really wasn't the first thing that came to mind. She looked all right, he supposed, but no more than that - the first time he'd seen her he'd secretly thought that her gangly, freckled form made her look more awkwardly comical than anything else. He knew for a fact that he would never, ever tell her this.

"Maybe I'll grow into it," said Ronnie, a little dreamily. "Like I said, I looked older in the mirror. And I think I was very powerful and successful too... I could see my family in the background and they all looked, well, _proud _of me. Even Fred and George. Like I'd, I dunno, done something very great... You don't think the mirror shows the future, do you?" There was a hopeful tone in her voice.

"If it does," said Hermione hesitantly, "why does Snape want us to look into it? Does he know something we don't know?"

"All right," said Harry, coming to a decision. "I'll look. Move aside, please."

"Harry, no!" Hermione protested. "If Snape wants us to look, I say we stay as far away from it as possible!"

"We're going to get in trouble no matter what, might as well do something to earn it." The thought of Snape possibly being the shadow bloke had given Harry a new resolve; he wanted to find out whether he was right, and right now the only possible clue he had was that mirror.

He stepped up to it and gazed into the grubby glass.

For a second or so he couldn't make out anything; then all of a sudden he saw himself, exactly as he looked in normal mirrors; not older or better-looking or in any way seeming like a big, powerful success - but surrounding him (and this was the big surprise) was a huge crowd of people.

Almost automatically, he turned around to see whether they were actually standing in the room with him, but there were only Ronnie, Hermione and Neville, looking at him.

"What happened?" said Ronnie.

"I'm not sure," Harry managed to say without having his voice quake too much. "I'd better have another look..." Before the others could say anything more, he turned back and gazed into the mirror.

His reflection looked back at him, as did all the other people in the mirror. Behind the dirt and grime they smiled at him; all of them had friendly faces, and all of them were older than him - some were elderly or middle-aged, some were young adults, but none of them were children or teenagers.

Closest to him, standing on each side of his reflection, were two people; a man and a woman. The woman was very pretty, with dark red hair and green eyes - eyes the exact same shade of green as his own, Harry suddenly realised as she lovingly placed a hand on his reflection's shoulder (he instinctively raised his hand to touch hers, but he touched only his own shoulder - she existed only in the mirror). And the man - the man had dark hair that stuck up in the back just like Harry's did, and he wore glasses like Harry. In fact, he looked an awful lot like -

All of a sudden, it was as if Harry could hear Hagrid's voice: _"Yeh really look almost exactly like yer Dad did at eleven, Harry... 'cept yer eyes, o' course. Those are yer Mum's eyes."_

He stared at the man and the woman.

"Dad?" he whispered. "Mum?!"

They nodded softly and looked at him with warm smiles. And then, all the other people seemed to come into focus as well, and Harry discovered that he could recognize parts of himself in most of them; that man had his green eyes, that woman had his nose, that funny little man looked like he had Harry's knobbly knees - yes, there was no doubt: all these people were his family.

For the first time in his life, Harry Potter was standing face-to-face with family members he had never met - or if he had. it was so long ago that he'd forgotten - and he felt a strange, painful sensation rise up in his chest. Part of it was joy, joy that he was finally seeing his family, but the joy was tinged with sorrow over the fact that they were just reflections and images - and through it all, a longing more powerful than anything he had ever felt before. He wanted these people, more than anything he wanted to step into the mirror so that he could be with them, touch them, talk with them...

He pressed his hands against the mirror, but the glass was hard, cold and unyielding against his fingers.

"What are you _doing,_ Harry?" Ronnie's voice suddenly brought him back to reality.

Harry pulled his hands away from the mirror, for some reason suddenly feeling very silly. "I -" he began, tearing his eyes away from his family in order to focus on his friends, who were still standing behind him with concerned expressions. "I just - I saw -"

"You said _'Dad'_ and _'Mum,'_" said Neville softly. "Was it your parents?"

Harry could only nod.

"You didn't see yourself as a grown-up?" said Ronnie.

"Wait!" said Hermione suddenly, pointing at the top of the mirror. "I think I figured it out! Look at the inscription!"

Harry tilted his head backwards and looked up - and for the first time he noticed that the inscription carved around the top of the mirror weren't just intricate patterns but elaborate letters forming strange words. They weren't the easiest to make out thanks to the dirty state of the frame, but eventually Harry read:_ Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._

"What's that?" said Ronnie, squinting to read the words herself. "Bulgarian or something?"

"No," said Hermione in a triumphant voice. "It's very simple! It's a mirror, so of course the inscription is mirrored as well! See, if you read the words backwards, they spell -"

_"- I show you not your face, but your heart's desire!"_ said Harry, getting it.

Hermione nodded. "The mirror shows us what we want, deep down! You never knew your family, Harry, so that's what you saw; yourself surrounded by family! And Ronnie, you're always saying how you wish your family wouldn't treat you as a baby, so when you looked in the mirror, you saw yourself as someone who _wouldn't _be treated as a baby! A powerful, grown-up witch, who has the respect of everyone!"

"So it's not real?" Ronnie looked about as disappointed as Harry felt. "We just see what we _want _to see?"

"Seems like it," said Hermione. "But I wonder why Snape has a mirror like this in his office in the first place?"

"Are you joking?" said Ronnie. "Being able to look at what you want, _when _you want? _I'd_ want a mirror like that!"

"I don't think it's as simple as that," said Hermione, and drew a breath to say more, when Neville suddenly spoke up.

"I don't think _any _of us should look in that mirror again," he said, looking strangely solemn and uncharacteristically determined - so much so, in fact, that Hermione closed her mouth instead of continuing what she was going to say. "Hermione was right, if Snape wants us to look into it, we shouldn't! Besides, I have a bad feeling about this entire thing - like it's a trap or something!"

Harry thought about how he'd wanted to climb into the mirror to join his family - if he had been able to, he would have done so in a heartbeat, and hang the consequences. Even now, when he knew that the images of his Mum and Dad weren't real, he felt a burning desire to turn back and look into the mirror to see their faces once more. If it _was _a trap, the bait was extremely alluring. "But what's the point?" he said. "Why would Snape try to trap us with a mirror that shows us what we want? Is he so desperate to expel us that -"

He never got further than this, because just then there was a noise from the other end of the room, by the open door. He turned around just in time to see one of the shelves collapse and fall, sending its contents tumbling to the floor; several bottles of strange-looking potions crashing and breaking upon impact, sending glass shards flying everywhere and strange-looking liquids splattering about, forming big puddles.

Potter's Gang stared at the sudden unexpected mess in shocked silence, as the puddles on the floor began flowing and mixing with one another - and before either of them could ask what had happened or why she shelf had suddenly collapsed, a scary-looking black smoke began welling up from the potion puddles on the floor.

"Wh-what's that?!" Neville yelped, taking a step backward and almost colliding with Harry as the smoke began welling out and expanding, coming closer at an alarming rate.

"Dangerous mixing of potions that weren't meant to be mixed, that's what!" Hermione looked panicked. "Hold your breath! No, wait, maybe it'll affect us through the skin - we have to get out of here!"

"Where d'you suggest we _go?!"_ Ronnie screamed.

Harry looked around; they were trapped. The smoke was approaching them fast, blocking their view of the door and cutting off their escape; and behind them were only the mirror and more shelf-covered walls; not so much as a window to escape through. He desperately looked towards the mirror to see if maybe his family members had any suggestions, but all he could see in the mirror's grubby surface was an image of himself, Neville, Hermione and Ronnie wearing gas masks; a doubly useless image right then because they didn't have any.

Why couldn't the magic lessons have gone a little quicker? If they had just learned how to conjure up gas masks or maybe learned to create powerful gusts of wind to blow dangerous-looking smoke away - but they were only in their second week at Hogwarts, none of them could do much with their wands yet, except -

"Hermione!" Harry grabbed her arm and felt a sudden surge of dizziness attack him; the air was getting thicker and was beginning to smell weird as the smoke had almost reached them by now. "Do something!"

"I - I don't know what to do!" Hermione sounded like she was about to either cry or hyperventilate.

"You're the cleverest witch in our year, you have to -" Harry had to stop there, as a sudden coughing fit attacked him; his vision grew dark and blurry as the smoke whirled around him. There was only one thing to do. "Everyone - grab each other's hands - hold your breath -_ run!"_

This was all Harry had time to say before everything went completely black around him, the smoke making his eyes sting and his skin prickle uncomfortably. He only had a few seconds now...!

Grasping out blindly, his hands found two others; he didn't know which two of his friends he'd grabbed hold of, it was and had no time to find it out; hoping against hope that they'd all somehow managed to grab onto one another he began running in the direction he thought the door was in.

He stumbled through the darkness, bumping into things he had no idea what was, keeping a tight grip on the hand - but then he heard a girl (Ronnie or Hermione? He wasn't sure!) start to cough, and then a silent gasp - and one of the people he was dragging along went limp and fell to the floor, pulling him down with them.

Instinctively, both because he was losing his balance and because he was dizzy from lack of air, he took a sharp breath. And immediately realized his folly as the smoke entered his lungs, and everything spun around. It was as if all his strength was pulled out of him; all of a sudden he couldn't stay upright, and flopped painfully down on the floor, his head hitting against someone's stomach.

Dimly, he heard a dull thud, as if someone else had flopped down to the floor... And then something soft and heavy landed down on top of him, and with his final bit of coherent thought he realised that all four of them were down for the count.

Somewhere far away, he heard running footsteps and sharp voices... and then everything faded away and he knew no more.

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

* * *

**Author's Notes**: And here's the first real cliffhanger of the story! What will become of Potter's Gang? Is this their final moment?

...Naaaaah, you _know _they'll make it. I'm not about to kill off the main characters this early in the story. So where's the suspense, you might ask? Well, we don't know what the smoke will do to them, do we? Given how it was created by a mix of potions that were never meant to be mixed, I don't think even Snape can predict the effects here. Anyone care to have a guess? (No, it's not going to involve any kind of soul bond or anything like that... I'm trying to avoid the "annoying new powers" syndrome here... but it might have _some_ effect. Just saying.)

In other news, it looks like Potter's Gang finally have found one of the clues they found in canon, namely the Mirror of Erised. But what was it doing in Snape's office? (This one might not be too hard to figure out, actually.) And will it be enough to help our heroes figure out the mystery of the Philosopher's Stone?

Time will tell...


	6. The Hospital Wing

**Another chapter! Once again, I'd like to thank everyone who's reviewed this story so far - as of now, _Weasley Girl _is officially my most-reviewed story ever! It's actually pretty funny, considering that I started this story on a whim... But it's surprisingly fun to see just how much can change from canon simply based on a gender change.**

* * *

**WEASLEY GIRL**

**Based on the _Harry Potter_ books by J. K. Rowling**

* * *

**CHAPTER SIX  
****The Hospital Wing**

* * *

_Harry..._

Harry slowly became aware of the sounds; they weren't loud, but they were persistent, and _just _irregular enough to be disturbing.

_Harry, c'mon..._

How annoying. How was he supposed to get any sleep when - wait a minute. He didn't remember going to sleep.

_Wake up, Harry!_

Harry opened his eyes and stared up into a pair of bright blue eyes, surrounded by a freckled face and an unruly mop of red hair. Ronnie pulled slightly back, and then her lips split into a big smile. "You're awake!" she cheered.

"...Ronnie?" Harry sat up and looked at her, then took in the sight of the room around them. It was a bright room with high, arched windows on two walls, pale Autumn daylight streaming in and giving everything a soft, crisp glow. The world was a little more blurry than Harry was used to, but this was easily explained by the fact that he wasn't wearing his glasses.

All of a sudden, the memories returned. Snape's office, the mirror, the collapsing shelf, the strange black smoke.

"What happened?" he said. "Where are we?"

"Hospital wing," said Ronnie. "Madam Pomfrey says we've been asleep for three days. If you can call it sleeping, I don't know."

"Thee _days?!" _Harry blinked, shocked.

"Yeah, I don't know what weird potion mix was in that black smoke, but it must have been powerful," said Ronnie. "Neville and Hermione are here too."

"Hi, Harry," came Neville's voice from somewhere farther away.

"Here - I got your glasses for you," said Ronnie, holding up Harry's familiar round glasses.

Harry gratefully accepted them, and to his relief found the world come into sharp focus as he put them on, and he could take on the sight of the room properly, now seeing that his bed was only one of many; simple beds with white linen sheets, around which there were frames that held curtains which could probably be pulled closed if the people in them wished privacy.

Both Neville and Hermione were sitting upright in their beds, a little way away, and looking at him with a mix of relief and concern.

It was only now that Harry noticed, to his slight embarrassment, that they were all in their pyjamas, and that Ronnie's were not only a tad too small for her, but a surprisingly loud shade of pink that clashed horribly with her hair. He hid the embarrassment as best as he could, especially since she didn't seem to have a problem with it. "How did we get to the hospital wing, anyway?" he asked.

"No idea, Madam Pomfrey didn't want to tell us anything before we were all awake," said Ronnie. "I suppose someone carried us, unless we sleepwalked or something."

"That's ridiculous," said Hermione. "How are you feeling, Harry?"

Harry had to take a moment to feel before he could answer. "A little dizzy."

"So did we, at first," said Hermione. "It'll pass."

"Yeah..." Ronnie bit her lip and looked at him - and then, all of a sudden she had thrown her arms around him and was hugging him tightly. It came as a complete surprise - Ronnie had hugged Hermione before, but never him or Neville. Now she was holding him hard, as if she was afraid he would vanish if she let go.

"Er - Ronnie -" Harry tried.

"It's all right, Harry, she did that to Hermione and me too," said Neville in an uncharacteristically dry voice.

"I was so scared," said Ronnie in a soft voice. "I thought we'd all die."

"Oh... Er..." Harry had no idea what to say to that.

She suddenly let go of him, and took a step back, looking at both him, Hermione and Neville. "But you don't tell _anyone _I said that, okay?!" she said, suddenly back to her old self again

"Okay," said Harry, relieved. He'd known Ronnie was strong, but he hadn't known just how hard she could hug - his muscles were crying out in relief after she'd let go.

Ronnie nodded, and opened her mouth to say something more, when the door at the far end of the room opened, and in the doorway stood a familiar figure: a tall, thin man with a silver beard so long it reached down to his waist. Bright blue eyes twinkled from behind elegant half-moon glasses, and extravagant, crimson robes with gold trimming almost, but not quite, swept against the floor as he walked.

"Ah, you're all awake," said Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, beaming as he stepped into the room. "Welcome back to the land of the conscious!"

Behind him, the much shorter and less impressive form of Madam Pomfrey appeared, scooting past the Headmaster and fixing Ronnie with a stern look. "Miss Weasley, what are you doing up?" she said before the Headmaster could continue. "Go on, back to bed with you!"

Ronnie muttered something about wanting to see how Harry was, but when the woman fixed her with another stern glare, she slinked back to the bed next to Harry's and lay down, pulling the covers up over herself.

"Madam Pomfrey was kind enough to inform me that three-fourth of your numbers were now awake," said Dumbledore, completely unfazed. "But it was a pleasant surprise to see that the number has now increased from three to four. Hopefully, that means there is only a question of time before all four of you are back on your feet."

Harry settled down in his bed, shifting a little as Madam Pomfrey (after having given Ronnie a brief examination) came over to him and placed a clammy hand on his forehead. "Lie _down_, Mister Potter," she ordered. "How are you feeling?"

"Er, fine," said Harry, deciding to obey her and lie down before she got seriously angry. "What happened? The last thing I remember was - that smoke."

"Well now," said Dumbledore, "I was rather hoping you could tell _me _what happened. Professor Snape tells me that he returned to his office to find it filled with black smoke, a considerable amount of broken potion bottles on the floor, and the four of you lying unconscious in a heap. He managed to get you out safely and get the smoke under control, but -"

_"Professor Snape?!" _Harry almost sat up again from sheer surprise, but managed to control himself. "He saved us?"

"Lie still, Mister Potter," said Madam Pomfrey, finally removing her hand from his forehead - whatever it was she had been measuring, she was apparently satisfied. "Though what that _man _was thinking, leaving a bunch of children unsupervised in a room filled with dangerous potions, I have no idea," she added under her breath.

"Poppy?" Dumbledore looked at Madam Pomfrey with a kind, but serious expression. "Would you mind leaving us alone for a few moments? I believe there are a few things I should discuss with our four young friends here."

Madam Pomfrey, whose first name was apparently Poppy, looked like she wanted to protest, but after a couple of seconds, she merely said: "You _are _the Headmaster, of course. Just don't let it be too long, they need their rest."

"Thank you, Poppy. I promise I will not take more time than is necessary."

"And don't get them too excited."

"I shall do my utmost to avoid it." Dumbledore smiled and nodded as the Matron turned and walked away - clearly not wanting to, but not finding any good reason to refuse.

When she was gone, he casually grabbed one of the chairs standing by Harry's bed, pulled it out and sat down between Harry's and Ronnie's beds, turning his head this way and that in order to look at them both. "First of all," he said, "I must say you all look much better than you did when you were brought in here."

"Thank you, sir," said Harry, not quite certain why he was thanking Dumbledore but deciding it wouldn't hurt to be polite.

"You're quite welcome, Harry. But, nice as it would have been to spend my stay here simply exchanging pleasantries -" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with humor for a moment, but then grew serious - "I do have some more serious things to discuss with you." He looked at each member of Potter's Gang in turn, starting and ending with Harry. "The first, and most pressing, topic is that of what actually went on there in Professor Snape's office. Can either of you give me any sort of hint as to who made that shelf fall?"

"It wasn't us, sir!" Ronnie blurted out. "We were on the other side of the room when it happened, and besides we wouldn't have done it anyway -"

Dumbledore looked at her and raised a gentle hand. "Peace, Miss Weasley," he said. "I never suspected any of you."

"You didn't?" Ronnie looked surprised, and then sheepish. "Oh..."

"Make no mistake, Professor Snape did not hesitate to present the four of you as the prime suspects," said Dumbledore. "But I took the liberty of examining the fallen shelf, and I found something quite interesting: The supports had been sliced clean through, most likely by a very powerful Severing Charm. Hardly the most complicated spell in the world, but still far too advanced for a group of first-years who have barely finished their second week at Hogwarts."

Almost instinctively, Harry looked over at Hermione. Of course, he knew she couldn't possibly be guilty, but if either of them could have cast such a spell, it would have been her. She did, however, _not _look indignant at the implication that she wouldn't be able to cast such a spell - in fact, she looked intrigued and a little worried.

"So who could have done it, sir?" she said. "It must have been a fairly accomplished wizard or witch, if they could do non-verbal magic... Because that _is _what they must have used, isn't it?"

Dumbledore looked at her with an expression of impressed surprise. "Most astute, Miss Granger. May I ask what leads you to draw this conclusion?"

"Because I didn't hear a voice," said Hermione. "We - that is, all four of us - were standing around by Snape's mirror and talking," said Hermione. "All of a sudden, we heard a strange noise from the other end of the room, like wood being split, and then the shelf collapsed. No voices beforehand, that must mean non-verbal!"

"Or maybe they were just whispering," said Harry dryly. "Or had a very quiet voice. It wasn't as though we were listening for any voices."

"Oh, well, yes, I suppose." Hermione deflated a little.

"Actually, Miss Granger, it's a very good thought," said Dumbledore. "I have no doubt that the person who cast the Severing Charm _was _a very accomplished wizard. Unfortunately, since there is no lack of very accomplished wizards at Hogwarts, this does not much help to narrow down our list of suspects. You did not happen to see anyone?" The tone of his voice suggested that he wasn't expecting a positive answer, and true enough, Potter's Gang failed to provide one.

"The door was open, though," said Harry. "I suppose anyone could have come past while we were talking."

"Er..." Neville looked like he wanted to say something, but then apparently thought better of it and became very interested in his hands.

"Please say what you were thinking, Neville," said Dumbledore kindly.

"Er..." said Neville again. "I was just... Could it be... Would you say that Professor Snape is an accomplished wizard? I'm not accusing him!" he added hurriedly. "I just, I just..."

Surprisingly, Dumbledore smiled. "Of course not," he said, "but one can't help theorizing, can one? And it _is_ an understandable theory, but I fear it's rather a misguided one. After all, why would Professor Snape expose you to a dangerous and unpredictable mix of potions if he was going to save you from it immediately afterwards?"

"Well, that's obvious, innit?" said Ronnie, clearly picking up on Neville's thread of thought. "He wants to cover his own arse - er, sorry, Headmaster," she added, going a little pink as she realised she was swearing in front of Dumbledore.

"Forgive me, Miss Weasley, but my old ears aren't quite what they used to be," said Dumbledore with the hint of a twinkle in his eyes, "so I did not hear what you said just then."

"I said," Ronnie replied gratefully, "that he wants to cover his own, er, _neck._ Try to kill us, and then save us, so that nobody will think it was him, and he'll look like a hero for it, and later on, when we trust him, he'll try to kill us again and -"

"Thank you, Miss Weasley," said Dumbledore. "But before you continue this expanded theory, I should perhaps inform you that I trust Professor Snape implicitly. He would no more try to kill you than I would. I'm afraid you shall just have to take my word for that."

Potter's Gang exchanged glances. Harry could see that his friends weren't any more convinced than he himself was, but Dumbledore seemed so certain that there was no point in arguing.

"Make no mistake," Dumbledore went on, "this is a serious situation. Knocking down a shelf full of potions is a highly dangerous thing to do. Anyone who would deliberately take such a risk... well, they would either have to be extremely desperate or firmly believe that the reward would be worth the risk."

"What reward?" Harry was feeling rather confused.

Dumbledore looked grave. "I do not wish to alarm either of you, especially after Madam Pomfrey warned me against getting you too excited..."

"We're not going to be any less excited if you don't tell us," said Ronnie. "Sir," she added after Hermione had glowered at her.

"It appears I do not have much choice," Dumbledore agreed. "You do have a right to know, especially after what happened." He sat back in his chair, taking another deep breath. "I'm certain you will find it as no surprise that, just as there are good Muggles and bad Muggles in this world, there are good wizards and bad wizards. Harry bears the mark of a particularly bad one on his forehead, after all."

Harry instinctively raised his hand to let his fingers brush against his scar.

"But You-Know-Who..." said Hermione in a small voice, "he's gone, isn't he?"

"Call him Voldemort, Miss Granger. Do not let his name frighten you. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself, after all." Dumbledore smiled briefly, and then became serious again. "But yes, as far as we know he is gone. But that does not mean he is dead, or that he can't come back."

Harry recalled Hagrid saying something similar when he first told him about Voldemort: _"Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die... Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on."_

His mind went back to the shadowed figure in the Forbidden Forest. Could it be that Voldemort had been hiding in the Forest all along, right under everyone's noses, perhaps biding his time until... but no, that was absurd. Wasn't it? For a second he pondered asking Dumbledore about this - but that would mean admitting that he, Ronnie and Neville had been out in the Forbidden Forest, and he couldn't do that.

"Are you saying... Sir, are you saying that You-Know - I mean _Voldemort,_ that _he _destroyed Snape's shelf?" Harry heard himself how ridiculous it sounded when taken out of context like that.

If Dumbledore found the thought as ridiculous as Harry did, he didn't show it. In the end, though, he shook his head. "I doubt it's that simple. Still... What we would do well to remember is that Voldemort had followers. Not all of them were caught after the war ended."

"But there aren't any of them here at Hogwarts, are there?" said Neville, looking terrified.

"As far as we know," said Dumbledore. "Still, this situation is too big a coincidence for my liking, considering how there were at least two things in that room that any follower of Voldemort would consider a great triumph to destroy. The second one being the mirror Erised."

Two questions immediately and simultaneously popped up in Harry's head. He chose to voice the first one. "That's Snape's - I mean, _Professor _Snape's mirror? The one that shows us - er - what we want to see?"

"Well, it belongs to the school, and what it shows is a little more complicated than that - but yes, that would be the one. Professor Snape had it in his office because I had asked him to help me prepare it for, let us say, a somewhat unorthodox use." Dumbledore's tone was light, but Harry recognised it as the tone of one who was not going to elaborate and would refuse to answer any further questions on the subject. "Suffice to say, the Mirror can do more than just show us our heart's desires."

"And -.. what's the first thing?" said Harry, deciding to voice his second question.

"I beg your pardon?" Dumbledore smiled.

"You said there were two things that Voldemort's followers would want to destroy, and the mirror was the second thing... What's the first?" He'd thought it was a perfectly legitimate question, so what he wasn't prepared for was the look of surprise in Dumbledore's eyes - nor had he expected that his friends would be staring at him the way they were now.

"What?" he said.

"You're joking, right?!" said Ronnie, sounding halfway exasperated and halfway scared. "It's _you,_ you idiot! You were the one who vanquished their boss! The Boy Who Lived, remember?!"

"Oh! Right!" Harry suddenly felt very stupid.

"But that means Harry's in danger!" said Neville, and if Harry had thought he looked terrified before, that was nothing compared to the terror on his face now. "Professor, we have to _do _something, we have to - we have to -"

"I shall personally take every precaution I can in order to ensure Harry's safety," said Dumbledore. "In fact... Yes, yes, that _is _an idea." Potter's Gang held their breath, looking at him. But Dumbledore didn't elaborate; he just smiled as if he had thought of something clever, and then said: "Well, since I do enjoy ending things on a positive note, especially after having discussed such serious things, I have some pleasant news for you all."

"Yes?" Harry leant forward.

"Due to the unusual circumstances, Professor Snape has agreed to cancel the rest of your detentions."

"Really?!" said Hermione, sounding halfway shocked and halfway relieved.

"Well, he did set the condition that you would not write any more letters of complaints about him," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "Keep in mind that I have not said this, but I do think your letter affected him much more than he would care to admit. Still, I was able to convince him in the end that a letter of complaint was not a liable reason for giving detentions... especially not since the first detention ended with all four of you in the hospital wing."

Hermione looked like she was about to say something, but she was interrupted by Ronnie, who gleefully cried: "Wicked! This calls for a celebration!"

Everyone turned to look at the red-haired girl, who had snatched a small, brown paper parcel from her nightstand, and was in the middle of opening it. "It's the snack Fred and George gave me before we went down to the dungeon!" she said. "It's chocolate, so it's still good... Go on, everyone, have some! Er, you too, Professor!"

Dumbledore beamed. "I would be delighted, Miss Weasley. Thank you so much!"

Ronnie divided the chocolate into five roughly identical pieces and handed four of them over to Dumbledore, who shared them between himself, Harry, Neville and Hermione.

Harry took a small bite out of the chocolate. It tasted delicious; not quite like the Chocolate Frogs he'd had on the Hogwarts express, but still good - though there was an interesting aftertaste to this chocolate, almost bitter, really, so maybe -

Hermione shrieked. Startled, Harry looked over at her, and saw that she was sitting up in her bed, her eyes wide with surprise and fear, half-eaten chocolate in one hand while the other pointed a quaking finger at Dumbledore.

The Headmaster had gone pale white. As Potter's Gang watched in horror, his blue eyes rolled up in the back of his head, and he collapsed, falling limply to the floor.

* * *

"You gave Ronnie chocolate that was laced with _Draught of Living Death?!"_ Percy thundered, looking at Fred and George like he wanted to strangle them. "What in the name of Merlin were you _thinking?!"_

To Fred and George's credit, they did look extremely sheepish and regretful, faced with the wrath of their older brother.

"Well..." said Fred.

"You see..." George added.

"We just thought that if Ronnie and the others ate the chocolate in Snape's dungeon, they'd fall asleep, and when Snape couldn't wake them up, they'd have to be taken to the hospital wing," said Fred. "And so they'd get out of detention."

"I must congratulate you both," said Snape in an icy voice, "on your marvelous short-sightedness. Or did you somehow think that I, as a Potions master, would fail to immediately recognise the effect of a Draught of Living Death? Or that I would not have an ample supply of Wiggenweld Potion to counter its effect?"

"Well..." said George.

"You see..." Fred added. Then they both fell silent.

"I admire your dedication to your sister," said Dumbledore from his bed. "But I suggest you find other ways of expressing it for the future, even though an old man like myself certainly doesn't mind a small nap every now and then."

The hospital wing was getting a little more crowded now; apart from Potter's Gang and Madam Pomfrey, in now included Fred, George and Percy Weasley (the latter of whom was not at all happy with his younger brothers right now) - plus a grouchy Professor Snape and a Professor Dumbledore who was was lying fully-clothed and conscious in one of the beds, looking like he'd found the entire thing to be an excellent joke.

Harry, Ronnie, Hermione and Neville were sitting (still in their sleepwear, but with all that was going on, nobody was even thinking about being embarrassed) on Harry's bed, with the boys on one side and the girls on the other. It seemed like Ronnie hadn't quite got over her hugging mood from earlier, as she was sitting with her arms around Hermione, who seemed resigned to having the red-haired girl cling to her for a bit.

It had been a moment of sheer terror for them all when Dumbledore had collapsed. It hadn't made sense at all; Dumbledore was the Headmaster of Hogwarts, an immensely powerful wizard, the defeater of the Dark Lord Grindelwald, the only person Voldemort ever feared. All of them - particularly Ronnie and Neville, who had grown up in the wizarding world - had heard stories of his greatness and benevolence, and even the aspect of Voldemort returning didn't seem so frightening when he was around. He shouldn't be allowed to suddenly faint like that; it went against some law of nature or something and was surely the sign that the end of the world was near.

All right, that last part had been Ronnie's words and might, all things taken into consideration, have been a bit of an exaggeration - but the point remained that seeing someone like Dumbledore faint was a great shock to Potter's Gang.

It was lucky that Madam Pomfrey had been close by, and that she had immediately come running when she's heard their cries. The Matron had immediately taken charge of the situation, ordered Potter's Gang back to their beds and gone on to examine Dumbledore, concluding within seconds that the fainting spell had been the work of a Draught of Living Death.

Dumbledore had soon enough been revived thanks to a simple Wiggenweld Potion, and though Madam Pomfrey had insisted upon him lying down for a bit, remained the only person in the room who was perfectly cheerful about the whole thing.

"I'm writing to Mum about this!" said Percy, looking sternly at his younger brothers.

"She'll kill us..." George murmured.

"And you deserve it!" Percy snapped. "Bad enough that you were going to trick Ronnie and her friends into taking the potion, but the _Headmaster?!_"

"To be fair," said Ronnie sheepishly from her place next to Hermione, "I was the one who gave it to him. But I didn't know, did I?"

"Quite so, Miss Weasley," said Dumbledore cheerfully. "Looking on the bright side, this should be a lesson to me about eating too many sweets."

"This is hardly a laughing matter, Headmaster," said Madam Pomfrey with a disapproving shake of her head. "I, for one, don't think it's funny to come into the hospital wing and find someone passed out on the floor, with four panicking children all around him!"

Dumbledore nodded. "You're right, Poppy," he said. "Consider me duly chastised. But, as I must now remind you all as well as myself, my unexpected nap isn't really the issue here."

The others nodded, and Harry tried not to grimace. The issue, and the reason why they were all gathered here at the moment, was the plain fact that Dumbledore was the only one who had been affected by the Draught of Living Death. Harry, Ronnie, Neville and Hermione had all felt the curious, bitter aftertaste of the potion, but none of them had felt even a little sleepy.

Given that the Draught of the Living Death was an extremely difficult potion to make even straight up, and that the feat of making it affect only some people and not others was an ability far beyond even that of Professor Snape, much less the Weasley twins, there was one very obvious solution to the mystery.

"I certainly had nothing to do with it," said Snape. "If I had known that Weasley had potion-laced chocolate in her pocket I would immediately have confiscated it." He turned towards Fred and George to glower at them for a bit as well (and the twins had the good sense to look subdued, at least while he and Percy were watching them), before turning his head back to Dumbledore. "I do think your suspicions are correct, though; the blame lies with the smoke. Somehow, breathing it in left Potter's Gang with some kind of immunity."

"What does this mean, Professor?" said Percy, notably less pompous than usual. "Does it mean they're immune to all potions, or just to certain kinds, like sleeping draughts?"

"Do I look like your Divination teacher, Weasley?" said Snape. "How do you expect me to know the full effect of an accidentally-created potion when I haven't yet had the chance to perform any more than the most basic of tests?" He looked at Percy with such a sneer that Harry was certain that any other Weasley would have glowered in return - but Percy just nodded.

"I do beg your pardon, Professor," he said, "I worded myself poorly. I meant, of course, to ask if you, as a renowned Potions master, could estimate any kind of guess?"

If Snape got any more kindly disposed to Percy from this blatant attempt at sucking up, he didn't show it. "Freak accidents sometimes wield unpredictable results," he said. "And this is especially true with freak accidents involving potions - or, I am starting to believe, freak accidents involving Potter."

Harry, who had been sitting next to Neville and following the exchange with a mix of curiousity, nervousness and confusion, blinked at this. He couldn't remember being in any freak accidents before this one...well, not unless you counted the so-called "freak accidents" he'd had at the Dursleys', which he now knew had been the result of uncontrolled magic, but somehow it didn't seem likely that this was what Snape was referring to.

"At the moment," Snape went on, "we do not know the full effect of the potion. I suspect that the immunity does extend to more types, perhaps all types, of potions, but this is impossible to say for certain until we test it out."

Potter's Gang exchanged glances. Neither of them had any desire whatsoever to be fed potions by Snape, of all people, to see whether they were immune or not - but then Neville carefully raised his hand, just as if he was in class.

"Er," he began. And stopped, gulping when everyone - teachers and Weasleys alike - turned to look at him.

"Once again, Neville," said Dumbledore kindly (and using Neville's given name this time, Harry noticed), "if you have any thoughts, please let us know."

"Well..." Neville had gone slightly red. "I just thought - I could do with a Calming Draught or something... You could test it on me, and if it doesn't work, then, then we'll know."

"I don't think you need a Calming Draught, Mister Longbottom," said Madam Pomfrey, looking him up and down. "I generally only administer those in cases of extreme emotional or nervous outbursts, and you seem composed enough. That goes for all of you."

"I could start screaming and throwing things, if you like," Ronnie offered.

_"No!" _Fred, George and Percy had all spoken the same word at the same time - and now they looked at each other, with vaguely sheepish looks on their freckled faces.

"Do we even have to go through any more tests?" said Harry hurriedly, in case another fight was going to break out. "I mean, we're all right now, and if we _are _immune to potions, even all potions, what's the harm?"

"What's the _harm?"_ Snape turned on him, his black eyes glittering unpleasantly. "Once again, Potter, you display not only a disturbing lack of knowledge on the subject of potions, but an alarming lack of common sense as well. You may think immunity to potions sounds like a good thing - but potions are more than just cheap pranks and poisons. More than half the common medical remedies and cures for magical ailments and curses take the form of potions. Do I need to write down the implications for you?"

Harry felt a sense of dread. "No, sir."

"Furthermore," said Snape, "Not only do we lack the proper details of the accidental potion's effect on you, but we also have no idea how long that effect will last. It may only last a few days, or a few weeks, or, worst-case scenario, it could be permanent. We need to _know _these things, Potter!"

"But you can't just start experimenting on us! Sir," said Harry, the 'sir' added at the last moment,

"Can't I?" Snape towered over him, and at that moment he looked more than ever like one of the evil scientist in the old horror movies Dudley liked to watch.

"Professor Snape," said Madam Pomfrey, drawing herself up to her full height. "I do hope you're not suggesting that you should test out dangerous potions or even _poisons _on these children in order to see if they're immune?"

Snape turned to look at her with a slight sneer. "I do hope _you're_ not suggesting that I would risk poisoning a student without having the proper antidotes ready?"

"You're not poisoning our sister!" Fred snapped. "Potions master or not!"

"Yeah, what if it turns out they're not immune to the poisons, but _are _immune to the antidotes?" said George.

"I find that highly unlikely," said Snape, though he looked like he wouldn't shed many tears if this turned out to be the case.

"This is outrageous!" Hermione suddenly exploded. She had been sitting calmly with Ronnie for the entire time, but her expression had got angrier and angrier, and this was apparently too much. "Experimenting on students, testing poisons, trying to kill us! This is without doubt the most unfair, irresponsible, malicious -"

_"Enough!" _Dumbledore had raised himself from his bed, and now that he stood up tall there was something in his eyes that hadn't been there before. This wasn't the old man who had accidentally swallowed a sleeping draught and fallen helplessly to the floor, nor was it the jovial, if eccentric, old Headmaster - this was Albus Dumbledore, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and the only wizard that Voldemort ever feared. He looked taller and more imposing than ever, and Harry was almost certain that right now Dumbledore would have shrugged off the effect of any potion, no matter how powerful.

Everyone, even Snape, even Hermione, immediately got very quiet under the old wizard's steely blue gaze.

"Severus," said Dumbledore. "Remember your promise. You are _not _to perform experiments on the students, of _any _kind. Am I making myself clear?"

"Perfectly, Headmaster." For once, there was no hint of contempt or even a sneer in Snape's voice.

"Besides," Dumbledore said, a little calmer, "you would not be half the Potions master I know you to be if you weren't already attempting to recreate the accidental potion in order to study its effects. You know exactly what went into it, I trust?"

"Of course." Snape looked a little calmer as well. "I know the exact place and amount of every potion and every ingredient I keep in my office - and even if I did not, I _do _know how to analyze a potion for its contents. The challenge lies in recreating the effect."

"But you can do it." It wasn't a question, but a statement of fact.

"Yes."

"Then there is no reason to involve the children in the research. They have been through _enough,_ Severus. Let Madam Pomfrey take care of them."

"Just as you say, Headmaster." A tiny hint of the normal sneer returned to Snape's face. "In that case, perhaps I may be excused. There doesn't seem to be anything more I can do for either of you, here and now."

"In a moment." Dumbledore looked at Snape, and then turned his gaze to the others, letting his eyes rest for a few moments on each and every one of them. (Harry felt a slight chill as Dumbledore's eyes met his; the Headmaster luckily didn't seem to be angry with him, but that steely display had convinced him that Dumbledore was not one to needlessly cross!) "First I must ask you, all of you, to keep it a secret what we have discussed here. If Professor Snape is right, and you four -" (and here he looked at Potter's Gang again) "- truly _have _been rendered immune to potions, temporary or not, that would be a fact best hidden from the world at large, especially in our current situation."

"What about our parents?" Percy said, interrupting the twins' banter. "If Ronnie's really immune to potions, they need to know."

Dumbledore nodded. "You are not wrong, Mister Weasley," he said. "I will personally talk to your parents. I believe Augusta Longbottom should also be informed..."

Neville squeaked, but nodded.

"As well as Miss Granger's parents," said Dumbledore.

"My parents are Muggles," said Hermione. "No need to worry them needlessly. They wouldn't understand..."

"Never underestimate Muggles, Miss Granger," said Dumbledore. "I trust you'll forgive me for saying so, but any parents who could have raised a daughter as intelligent and sensible as yourself -" (Hermione blushed a little and tried not to look pleased) "- would be more than capable of understanding."

"I still don't think I want them to know," Hermione murmured. "They - they might get scared and decide to forbid me from attending Hogwarts."

Dumbledore looked at her seriously. "I do think you are making a mistake by insisting they be kept in the dark," he said. "However, I will not insist. That leaves only Petunia and Vernon Dursley."

Harry gave a start. When thinking back on the scene later, he didn't quite understand why the sound of his aunt and uncle's names seemed so startling to him. Maybe it was just the fact that he hadn't expected Dumbledore to know their names - though maybe Hagrid had told him - or maybe it was the thought of how the Dursleys might react if someone like Dumbledore showed up at Privet Drive. "I don't think you should bother, sir!" he said hurriedly. "They wouldn't be interested!"

"Wouldn't be interested?!" Percy repeated, in a dumbfounded voice. "Harry, we're talking about your _health _here! What sort of legal guardians wouldn't be _interested?" _

"Mine," said Harry, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the way everyone was suddenly staring at him. "Could we perhaps talk about something else?"

Just before the drawn-out silence that followed began to get embarrassing, Dumbledore nodded and said: "Very well, Harry, if that is your wish, I shall not inform your aunt and uncle. Then I suggest that our official story is that there was a regrettable accident with the potions in Professor Snape's office, and that Potter's Gang were unconscious for a while, but are recovering nicely and now simply need some time to rest and recuperate here at the hospital wing."

"It's not like it's a hard story to believe," Madame Pomfrey sighed. "With all the reckless things the students do on a daily basis..."

"We were all young once, Poppy," said Dumbledore with a smile. Then, he turned to Fred, George and Percy. "Gentlemen, can I perhaps ask you to help spread this information among the students?

Percy nodded, while Fred and George made exaggerated salutes.

"You can trust us, Professor Dumbledore!" said George. "Well, not _really - _after all, we're notorious pranksters -"

"- but in this case it's all right, because we're also industrious spreaders of rumors and misinformations," said Fred. "Nobody outside this room'll hear anything even resembling the truth of the matter from us!"

"Not even if they torture us!"

"Not even if they take away our secret stash of joke chocolates!"

_"I'll _take those," said Snape, who had been so silent during all this that they had almost forgotten he was there. Now, everyone turned to look at him again, and it was clear that his old attitude was back in full as he stared coldly at Fred and George. "I expect to see each and every joke chocolate, Dungbomb, Fanged Frisbee and otherwise illegal object you two possess here at Hogwarts, on my desk, in my office, within the hour, or I will take fifty points from Gryffindor for each of you. And, just so you don't get any foolish ideas, rest assured I will _know _if you fail to bring me_ everything. _And then you will _wish _I had only taken those hundred points."

Fred and George stared at him. George briefly turned towards Dumbledore, but then apparently realised that the Headmaster was unlikely to help them in concealing items that were against the school rules to possess, and so he just turned back to Fred and thumped him on the head. "You _had _to say that, didn't you!"

* * *

That night, Harry couldn't sleep.

Madam Pomfrey had insisted on having him and his friends at the hospital wings for a few days, for observation. And after a few gentle nudgings, she had agreed to test out their newfound immunity to potions by giving them a few simple harmless ones - none of which worked. Calming Draughts didn't induce calmness, Pepper-Up potions did not make them smoke at the ears, Strengthening Solutions didn't make them stronger, even the Dreamless Sleep potion had failed to make any of them nod off. While there were still a huge number of other potions that Madam Pomfrey refused to try ("so many potions at once aren't healthy for your bodies, no matter if they work on you or not!"), it did seem like Snape and Dumbledore's predictions had been correct: Potter's Gang were completely immune to the effects of all kinds of potions.

They still didn't know how long the immunity would last.

Harry sighed slightly and looked up at the curved ceiling. From the other side of the curtains he'd drawn around his bed,he could hear the soft breathing of his friends - though the lack of Neville's characteristic snore hinted that Harry wasn't the only one who was having trouble sleeping.

"Neville?" he tried, speaking quietly in case the girls were asleep.

"Yes?" came Neville's voice, sounding about as awake as Harry felt.

"Can't sleep either?"

"No." Neville was silent for a few seconds before he continued: "I think sleeping for three days has made me too awake to get back to sleep."

"Sleep doesn't work like that," came Hermione's voice from a little farther away.

"You're awake too, Hermione?" said Harry.

"We're all awake," came Ronnie's voice. "Hope that's not another effect of the smoke. I don't want to live a life without sleeping, I'd get so bored at night."

"You'd have time to do your homework," said Hermione, with a slight hint of a smile in her voice.

Ronnie snorted. "Yeah, _that'd_ chase away the boredom."

Harry stifled a chuckle and waited for Hermione's respond. When it didn't come, he concluded that she must either have fallen asleep or just for once decided to drop the subject. He lay back in his bed, closing his eyes. If he perhaps thought of something pleasant, he'd nod off...

"Do you think it _was _Snape?" came Hermione's sudden voice.

"What?" Harry opened his eyes.

"Who broke the shelf," said Hermione. "He seemed awfully eager to do experiments on us today. Maybe he wanted a chance to finish us off when his previous attempt proved to be a failure. He said himself that the reaction was unexpected."

"Dumbledore doesn't think it was Snape," said Harry.

"Dumbledore isn't perfect," Hermione shot back. "We saw that today, didn't we? And you can't pretend Snape isn't horrid. I'd trust him about as far as I could throw him, and I'm not convinced he's innocent. Who else had the motive, or the opportunity?"

"Well, there was Quirrell," said Harry, though he heard himself how unlikely it sounded. "He was down in the dungeons as well, and we never found out what he was doing there."

"Even Dumbledore said that the shelf had to be broken by a highly accomplished wizard," Hermione huffed. "Do you really think Quirrell fits that description?"

"No. He seems like a decent enough bloke, mind you," said Ronnie slowly, "but I don't think he could so much as transform a matchstick into a needle without stuttering and messing it up."

Harry closed his eyes again and tried to imagine Quirrel lifting his wand and performing a silent Severing Charm... No. No, he really couldn't believe the image. Even with Dumbledore's assurances, he had to admit that Snape was by far the likelier suspect. There were too many things that fit the theory... And too many things that didn't quite make sense otherwise. The most obvious thing was that Snape, along with the strange shadow bloke, was the only one who seemed able to make his scar hurt by simply glaring at him."What d'you think he meant when he talked about freak accidents happening around me?" he said.

"Maybe he's tried to kill you before, and... couldn't..." Neville's voice trailed off.

"That doesn't make any sense. Why would Dumbledore even hire Snape if he'd tried to kill Harry?"

"Well, Dumbledore doesn't have to know about that... Or!" Neville gasped, as a thought apparently struck him. "Dumbledore said that Snape had promised him something, remember? What if Snape had to promise not to try and kill Harry?"

There was a short silence.

"I think we need sleep," Hermione finally said. "We're clearly overtired and are over-speculating."

"Yeah."

"Mmm."

There was another short silence.

"Harry?" Ronnie's voice sounded a little hesitant.

Harry opened his eyes again. "Mmm?"

"Did you mean what you said earlier today - about, you know, your aunt and uncle not caring about you?"

Harry turned over on his side. The curtains by his bed, of course, hindered him from seeing any of his friends' faces, but somehow it felt right that he should at least face in their general direction while answering. "Well, you knew that," he said. "I told you the first time we met, how my aunt and uncle and cousin were terrible."

"Yeah, but -" Ronnie paused. "I didn't think you meant it literally. I say my family's terrible all the time, but they're not _terrible _terrible. I still love them."

"I don't love the Dursleys," said Harry. "They don't love me, either. If I had died from that smoke, they would probably have celebrated for a week when they got the news."

"Really?" Ronnie swallowed. "Harry, what do they do to you? Do they -"

"Perhaps Harry doesn't want to talk about this," said Neville, sounding hesitant for some reason.

"It's not healthy to bottle up," said Hermione, Junior Psychiatrist.

"It isn't?" said Neville, sounding surprised.

"No, it's not. Look, if you have problems at home, you should tell someone, you should talk about it, and then you'll feel better -"

"I'm not bottling up!" said Harry, who had finally had enough. "Besides, it doesn't matter. I'm free from them. They're back in Little Whinging, and I'm here at Hogwarts. As far as I'm concerned, I've won."

"But if you'll still have to go back to them for the holidays..." said Ronnie, and she was sounding so concerned that Harry's growing annoyance vanished.

"That's months away," he said. "Really, I'll be fine."

"But -" Ronnie began.

"My parents don't know who I am!" Neville suddenly blurted out.

Harry blinked. "What?"

"They were tortured when I was a baby and they lost their minds completely and they've been in the psychiatric ward at St. Mungo's for almost ten years, and they can't talk, and they can't take proper care of themselves, and they don't recognise me when I visit them." Neville breathed heavily while Harry desperately tried to think of something to say to this. "I told you I live with my Gran, right? Well, that's why."

"That's... awful," said Ronnie. "Who... D'you know who did it?"

"Yeah, her name's Bellatrix Lestrange, she was one of You-Know-Who's followers. It was after Harry vanquished him... she didn't believe that he was gone and thought my parents knew where he was. When they wouldn't tell her, she..." Neville took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Hermione, but talking about it doesn't seem to make me feel any better."

But Hermione seemed, for once, to have been struck speechless - at least she didn't say anything.

"In any case, that's why I didn't want to look into that Mirror. I know what I would have seen," said Neville in the tone of someone who has decided to come clean about everything.

"I'm sorry, Neville," Harry finally managed to say.

"What are you sorry for? It's not your fault."

"In a way, it is. If she was looking for You-Know-Who, and I was the one who -" Harry began.

"Don't you start blaming yourself, Harry!" Hermione suddenly said. "This Bellatrix Lestrange was an adult, she made her own decisions, you didn't tell her to go torture Neville's parents - did they ever catch her, Neville?"

"She's in Azkaban now," said Neville.

"She's not in_ prison?!" _Hermione's voice turned shrill.

"Hermione..." said Ronnie carefully. "Azkaban _is_ prison. That's the name of the wizard prison."

"Oh."

There was another silence, a little longer this time. Harry felt torn between feeling grateful that they weren't discussing his family situation anymore, and feeling sorry for Neville.

"Hermione?" Ronnie said.

"Yes?"

"What's _your_ family like? I mean, your parents don't beat you or starve you unless you get perfect grades or anything, right?"

"My parents are perfectly lovely people, thank you very much, Veronica!" said Hermione in an indignant tone.

"I was just checking," said Ronnie. "With Harry's and Neville's revelations, I just had to know if... Well, this isn't helping us sleep at all, is it," she said in a somewhat louder voice. "Er, want me to tell you a bedtime story?"

"We're not babies, Ronnie," said Hermione, apparently still a little annoyed (though, Harry noticed, not so annoyed as to continue to use Ronnie's real name rather than her nickname).

"I know, I just thought..." Ronnie murmured. "Mum used to tell us bedtime stories when we were little... Never mind. It was a silly idea anyway."

"I'd like to hear a story," said Neville hurriedly. It'd take my mind off - things. D'you know the one about the Fountain of Fair Fortune?"

And in the end, Ronnie did end up telling the story, which turned out to be a wizards' fairy tale rather unlike any of the ones Harry had heard in the Muggle world. (The Dursleys, of course, had hated fairy tales, but Harry still thought that, thanks to school, books and the occasional TV program, he at least knew the more popular ones.)

"High on a hill in an enchanted garden, surrounded by tall walls and protected by powerful magic, was a fountain called the Fountain of Fair Fortune. Once a year, the longest day of the year, a single person was given the chance to fight their way to the fountain, bathe in its waters and receive Fair Fortune for evermore..."

Harry lay back, closed his eyes and listened to the story of three witches and a hapless Muggle knight who went on a quest to bathe in the waters of the titular fountain.

As Ronnie's voice, towards what was probably the end of the story, started to become distant and dreamy, and Neville's soft snores began sounding - Harry finally and gratefully drifted off to sleep.

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

* * *

**Author's notes:** Okay, not much happened in this chapter other than a lot of exposition, but hopefully it didn't become too boring. (Dumbledore is a tricky character to write, but I hope I managed to at least partially do him justice here.) Next chapter, things will hopefully start to move a little quicker again,

Well, Potter's Gang are starting to gain a bit more knowledge here; Harry's beginning to find out thing that he won't even have a clue about in canon for several years... But they still don't know anything about the Philosopher's Stone or Fluffy or anything else. Will they find out anything before it's too late?


	7. The Cloak And The Troll

**This past month has been rater hectic, so I haven't had the time to write much, but I finally managed to find the time to finish this chapter. You might notice that I've also added a story image, namely a head-shot of Veronica Weasley, as drawn by me. She looks pretty close to how I'm imagining her; not overly beautiful (as in my mind Ginny is the looker in the family), but in my eyes still kinda cute.**

* * *

**WEASLEY GIRL**

**Based on the _Harry Potter_ books by J. K. Rowling**

* * *

**CHAPTER SEVEN  
****The Cloak and the Troll**

* * *

They stayed at the hospital wing for two more days, but Harry found he didn't mind as much as he'd feared he would. While the careful testing of their potions immunity was never very pleasant (Madam Pomfrey had some rather foul-tasting ones, neither of which had any effect on either of them), the hospital wing wasn't a bad place to stay so long as you were with good friends.

Since Madam Pomfrey had declared their "conditions" to be non-critical and unlikely to be contagious (and Fred, George and Percy seemed to have done their part in spreading the official story to the student body at large), they had several visitors as well - just about all their fellow Gryffindor first-years stopped by to see how they were doing, and to summarize lessons and deliver homework.

Two of the visits were especially notable, however.

The first one was by Trevor the Toad, who caused a bit of an awkward situation on the first morning after their conversation with Dumbledore. It was quite early in the morning still when Potter's Gang were awakened by a small, startled shriek from Ronnie, who had woken up to quite unexpectedly find a toad sitting on her pillow.

Ronnie's face was extremely pink when she handed Trevor over to Neville, explaining that she really didn't mind him, it was just that waking up to discover two toad eyes staring at you was a bit of an unnerving experience.

"Sorry about that," said Neville, who looked about as embarrassed as Ronnie did. "He must have found his way here during the night. I don't even know how he did it - he never remembers the way back to our dorm room." He looked down at his pet, who looked back at him with the typically stoic expression of a toad and didn't seem like he was about to provide any sort of explanation.

Trevor's stay was fairly short-lived, though, as Madam Pomfrey, upon entering, declared that pets were not allowed in the hospital wing, and carried the toad away.

The second (and, in Harry's opinion, far more satisfying) visit happened later that afternoon. Shortly before dinnertime, Hagrid entered the room, looking - as he always did when he was indoors - much too big to be allowed, but his beetle-black eyes were just as warm and friendly as ever, and he gave them all a big smile as he carefully made his way toward their beds.

"So glad ter see yer all righ'!" he beamed, looking at all of them, "Yeh four gave us all a bit of a fright there, unconscious fer three days an' all! How're yeh feelin'?"

As they all assured him they were feeling fine, Hagrid sat down on an available chair, which looked much too small for him, but strangely enough didn't even creak warningly as he sat down.

"So what happened ter yeh in Snape's office, anyway?" he said, looking at them with a mix of concern and curiosity. "Dumbledore made the announcement yesterday that yeh'd bin in a bit of an accident."

Harry thought for a second. Though Hagrid was obviously in on many of Dumbledore's secrets (such as the mysterious parcel he'd retrieved from Gringotts a couple of months ago), but he had obviously not been informed of this one. "A shelf collapsed," he said, sticking as closely to the truth as he could. "The potions mixed and created some strange smoke that knocked us out when we breathed it in."

"We're fine now, though," said Neville.

"Well, tha's a relief," said Hagrid. "Coulda bin dangerous, that."

"Hagrid," Hermione suddenly said. "Do you know anything about the Mirror of Esired?"

"Er - wha'?" Hagrid blinked and turned to look at her. "The Mirror of - er, well, 's a mirror, innit? It's in the name."

"Yes, but do you know anything _more _about it?" said Hermione. "We saw it down in Snape's office, before the accident, and we figured out that it showed us our hearts' desires whenever we looked in it -"

"I saw my parents, Hagrid," said Harry.

"Oh." A sad expression washed over Hagrid's face. "Blimey, Harry, I'm sorry."

"So am I," Harry admitted. Seeing parents - and all his other relatives too, but mostly his parents - in the Mirror had awoken something in him that he hadn't really known about before. Before, they had simply been abstract concepts, a couple of meaningless names. Their death was sad, of course, and he'd more than once wished that they had still been alive, but it had been more a desire to get away from the Dursleys than anything else. But now... now he had faces to go with the names; he could remember how they smiled at him, the love in their eyes. It was as though he'd for the first time found out exactly what it was he had lost, and it _hurt._

Hagrid sighed, and then looked at all of them. "Yeah, I know abou' the Mirror," he said. "S' one o' those magical things that's bin at Hogwarts fer ages an' nobody really knows where comes from. Not that long ago since I had ter haul it down ter Snape's office, an' when I looked in it - well, any case, looks like yeh know all about it already," he interrupted himself, as if suddenly afraid he was saying too much.

"But there's more to it than that, isn't it?" Hermione pressed. "Dumbledore said that the Mirror could do more than just show us what we wanted."

Hagrid looked decidedly uncomfortable. "Well, I wouldn' know abou' that," he said, though Harry noticed that he didn't meet Hermione's eyes when he said this, just like he hadn't wanted to meet Harry's eyes when he denied that Snape had any reason to hate him.

"There was something he wanted Snape to do with it," Ronnie added.

"That'd be between Dumbledore an' Snape, wouldn' it?" said Hagrid. "Look, yeh shouldn' worry abou' the Mirror. It's all jus' part o' the security precautions fer -" he stopped himself.

"Security precautions?" said Hermione. "Security precautions for what?"

"Nothin'!" said Hagrid hurriedly. "I shouldn'ta said that. Jus' forget I said anythin'- Anyway." he added, in an obvious attempt to change the subject. "Was another reason why I came up here ter see yeh. Got summat here fer yeh, Harry. It's from Dumbledore."

Harry sat up and watched as Hagrid pulled out of his pocket what appeared to be a bundle of silvery-grey cloth. It glittered with a strange shine as he handed it over to Harry, reflecting the light of the windows in a most curious way - and as Harry took it in his hands, he discovered that it felt strange to touch as well. Most of all, by look and feel, it was as if someone had taken the surface of a pool of water and somehow woven it into this thin cloth.

Ronnie and Neville both gasped.

"Is that -?" said Ronnie in an awed voice.

"It _is!" _said Neville. "I've seen one of those once! It looked exactly like that one!"

"You've _seen_ one? But they're _really_ rare -"

"What _are _you two talking about?" said Hermione impatiently. "What _is _it?"

"It's an Invisibility Cloak!" said Neville. "Isn't it, Hagrid?"

"Where'd you get it?!" said Ronnie, unable to take her eyes off the silvery cloth.

"Dumbledore, like I said," said Hagrid. "According ter him, it used ter belong ter Harry's Dad. Bin in the Potter family fer generations, apparently, sorta like a family heirloom. Still works good as new, though."

Ronnie and Neville looked at the Cloak with awed expressions - even Hermione seemed to momentarily forget her questioning of Hagrid and leaned forward to get a better look.

Harry felt a certain awe as well as he unfolded the shimmering cloth. A Potter family heirloom... His father had owned this very Cloak. It was the first thing he'd ever held in his hands that he knew had belonged to one of his parents.

Quite apart from the silvery gleam, it was rather plainly made; sewn for durability rather than looks - but then, what did looks matter for a garment that turned you invisible? Harry turned it around a bit and was amazed at how _big _it was when it was fully unfolded; despite easily folding up small enough to fit comfortably in your average robe pocket, the Cloak had clearly been made for a grown man, and a rather large grown man at that. It might not be big enough to cover, say, Hagrid, but it would probably easily cover Harry himself and any one of his friends at the same time.

"But if it was my father's," he finally said, "why did Dumbledore have it?"

"Dunno," said Hagrid, and this time his ignorance seemed genuine. "He jus' said that it was righ'fully yers an' he'd had it fer long enough. Seemed ter think yeh migh' need it."

"Try it on, Harry!" Ronnie insisted.

Tentatively, Harry draped the Cloak over his shoulders, to an excited cheer from Ronnie - and as he looked down, he saw to his astonishment that his body had become invisible underneath him. The only thing that hinted that he was still there was the slight depression that his body made on the bed underneath him, a depression which shifted slightly even as Harry himself moved.

"That is so cool!" said Ronnie. "I can only see your head - oh, wait, now I can't see that either," she added as Harry pulled the Cloak up over his head.

"A pity there aren't any mirrors here," said Neville, "or you could have seen for yourself. _Not _seen for yourself, I mean."

"Can you imagine all the things we could _do _with that Cloak?" said Ronnie, a gleam of mischief in her eyes.

"Whatever it is you're thinking about, stop it right now, Veronica!" Hermione's expression was somewhere between fascinated, concerned and annoyed. "Dumbledore must know all the ways that Cloak can be used to break school rules, and he's obviously showing Harry a great deal of trust by letting him have it, so Harry's not going to break that trust - _are you,_ Harry?" That last part was more a command than a question.

Harry pulled the Cloak down to let his head become visible again. "Er, no, of course not," he said, hoping that Hermione didn't hear the slight hint of disappointment in his voice.

Hagrid beamed. "Knew yeh'd be responsible, Harry!" he said."Great man, Dumbledore... if he thinks yeh'll need it, yeh prolly will. Maybe 'fore yeh even know it."

Harry decided then and there that he _would _be responsible. Disappointing Dumbledore was one thing, but disappointing _Hagrid_... that would feel too much like kicking a puppy. (An over-dimensioned, wild-looking brute of a puppy, perhaps, but a puppy nonetheless.)

Just to see the Cloak's effect in action properly, though, he let all his friends try it on. One after another, Neville, Ronnie and Hermione vanished underneath the Cloak - and each time, no matter how much Harry strained his eyes, he couldn't see so much as a contour or a movement. Even Hagrid eventually let Harry talk him into trying on the Cloak, though it was much too small for him, and Potter's Gang all laughed as his upper body vanished underneath the cloak while his lower body remained fully visible.

It was at that precise moment that Madam Pomfrey came in to see what all the fuss was about and let out a startled scream at the sight of the halved Hagrid.

That pretty much ended the fun. Hagrid hurried to pull the cloak of himself, and although Madam Pomfrey's shock at seeing his halved form passed almost immediately, she was rather cross with them all afterwards.

"The hospital wing is not the place for such _nonsense,"_ she said sternly.

"Invisibility Cloaks aren't nonsense!" Ronnie protested.

"They are if they're used in the hospital wing!" said Madam Pomfrey. "This is the second time in two days I come in here to see why everyone is making so much noise, only to get a nasty shock! I'm starting to think you're doing this on purpose!"

"Er, 's my fault, really," said Hagrid.

"No, it wasn't!" said Harry hurriedly. "It was my idea!"

Madam Pomfrey shot them both an exasperated glance. "Mister Potter, I don't care whose idea it was - it stops now! And Hagrid..." she turned to him and sighed; the sound of a long-suffering martyr. "Honestly, sometimes you're worse than all the children put together. Do you think you could at least stop encouraging them?!"

"Er, yeah, sorry abou' that," said Hagrid sheepishly. "I prolly got some work ter do anyway." He cast an apologetic glance at Potter's Gang. "I'll talk ter yeh when yeh're out o' the hospital wing, all righ'? Good ter see yeh all again."

After he had left, Potter's Gang made a hasty, but unanimous decision (supported by a very insistent Madam Pomfrey) to postpone further testing of the Invisibility Cloak until _after _they were released from the hospital wing.

It was a bit of a let-down - but, Harry thought as he carefully rolled the marvellous Cloak up into a bundle and tucked it under his pillow, it was only temporary... And besides, just having the Cloak and knowing it had belonged to his father was a decent consolation price.

* * *

There were no further attacks - at least none that Harry ever noticed - but Harry's decision to not abuse the powers of the Invisibility Cloak were sorely tested over the following weeks, thanks to Draco Malfoy and the Trolls.

After being shown up by Harry and got into a fight with Ronnie at their first flying lesson, Malfoy's dislike for them seemed to have grown - though it also seemed like Madam Hooch's reprimand had somewhat startled him and made him decide to change his battle tactics a little. At least, he tended to keep silent and pretend not to notice Potter's Gang whenever he met them and any Prefects or teachers were around. However, after their stay at the hospital wing, Harry did notice that he tended to pass the Trolls an awful lot in the hallway, and always Malfoy would just happen to be in the middle of some story about idiot wizards who thought they could master basic potions and ended up hospitalising themselves and their friends alike.

"I feel so sorry for those who don't have the brains to realise that potions need to be handled with," he'd say. "And I feel even more sorry for their friends. You'd think being friends with such blockheads would be punishment enough, but ending up in comas over it as well..."

Or, another time: "I hear Professor Snape has never let anyone out of detention before. I wonder if he let Potter's Gang out from sheer pity over how pathetic they are, or because he knew they would completely ruin his office if he had them in there for more than one day?"

Or one time, even: "Hey, Goyle, can you guess who I am now?" Followed by holding up an imaginary bottle in each hand and saying in a stupid voice: "Ooooh, what pretty potions. I wonder what'll happen if I spill them all over the floor and inhale the fumes."

Harry knew that Malfoy was deliberately trying to provoke him, probably goad him into trying to respond or even attack him, so that he could tell the teachers (preferably Snape) and get Harry into more trouble. There was no reason to listen to him, and even less reason to get upset or annoyed over it... and yet, he had to admit, every time he passed the Trolls, Malfoy's comments stung a little harder.

It would be so easy to take out the Invisibility Cloak and use it to teach the Trolls a lesson - nothing huge, just perhaps give them a little scare, nobody need ever find out - but every time he was tempted, he thought about Hagrid being so proud of him for being responsible with the Cloak, and so he resisted the temptation.

There were, after all, plenty of other things to contend himself with. The stay at the hospital wing had put Potter's Gang slightly behind with the schoolwork, and so they had to work a little extra to catch up - but luckily, Hermione had been far ahead of the rest of the class anyway and was an immense help in getting the rest of the Gang through the extra work.

The smartest member of Potter's Gang also spent quite some time in the library doing extensive research on the various mysteries that had shown themselves, trying to find out more about the Mirror of Esired, about potions and immunity to potions... and, of course, about Dark wizards, to see whether she might be able to identify the mysterious attacker and whether Snape was really likely to be Dark. The results of the research were apparently rather meager; when they asked her about it, she would shake her head and say that she was learning a lot, but nothing about what she was looking for.

As for Snape, he spent the next few weeks rather preoccupied and distracted, and as such far less nasty than normal. According to Madam Pomfrey (who still meticulously checked Potter's Gang for potion immunity every few days), he was busy trying to recreate the effects of what he had dubbed the "Immunity Potion." something that seemed to be quite a challenge for him.

Even Potions class (held in a Potions classroom that showed no signs of ever having been trashed, even if the potion ingredients on the shelves were less numerous) was more tolerable - while Snape was still openly favouring the Slytherins, he seemed somewhat half-hearted about it and even passed up several good opportunities to insult or belittle the Gryffindors. When Malfoy, secure in the knowledge that he could get away with it, raised his hand and asked innocently if it wasn't better that Harry be excused for the rest of the lesson because "if he messes this potion up, he might put us all to sleep for three years," Snape barely acknowledged it, simply took five points from Gryffindor out of habit, and continued the lesson.

All the Gryffindors agreed that they vastly preferred this new, preoccupied Snape to the old one, though Harry was fairly certain it wouldn't last.

Between everything that was going on, Potter's Gang were kept quite busy over the next few weeks - and it actually came as a minor shock to Harry to discover that Halloween was coming up and he'd already been at Hogwarts for two whole months.

What was certain, though, was that despite unfortunate elements such as Snape, the Trolls, Filch and the knowledge that someone was out there and probably wanting to kill him, these had been the happiest two months of Harry's life. Hogwarts already felt much more like home than Privet Drive ever had, and if he didn't enjoy universal popularity, most of the students and teachers seemed to like him. (Whether this was because he was the Boy Who Lived, or they liked him as a person, he wasn't so certain about - but after having lived for ten years knowing he'd been unwanted and hated, Harry wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Besides, he knew that Ronnie, Neville and Hermione genuinely liked him, and that was really enough.)

Even lessons were getting more interesting now that they had mastered the basics and could start practicing some actual spells. True, their actual success in doing so varied a lot; Hermione was always the top of the class, while Harry and Ronnie struggled more, and poor Neville tended to either not get any result, or the wrong one.

On Halloween morning, when everyone was excited about the big Halloween feast that would happen when darkness fell, the first-year Gryffindors got a pleasant surprise in the first lesson, which happened to be Charms: The tiny, excitable Professor Flitwick announced that they were ready to start learning the Charm for making objects fly.

"Do you all have your feathers?" Flitwick asked, looking over the class from the stack of books he was standing on in order to be able to see over his desk. "Good! The Levitation Charm is a simple one, but as always, it is best to start small, so we'll be practicing on feathers today -"

"Size matters not," said Dean Thomas in a strange, raspy voice. "Judge me by my size, do you?" A few of the students sniggered, but most of the people in the room - including Flitwick - simply gave him some rather odd looks, causing Dean to sigh: "I need more Muggle-born friends."

Apparently deciding it would be better to bypass this moment without comment, Flitwick continued: "Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing! Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick!" He demonstrated with his own wand. "And saying the magic words properly is very important, too - never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 'S' instead of 'F,' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest!"

There were more laughs at that than there had been at Dean's obscure joke.

The students had been put into pairs; while Ronnie and Hermione had paired up, Harry was with Neville, and though they both swished and flicked the best they could to get their feathers to move, neither of them could lift it even an inch.

None of the other students really managed any better, with the notable exception of Hermione, who with an elegant swish and flick of her wand and a self-assured command of _"Wingardium Leviosa!"_ made the feather she was sharing with Ronnie rise off the desk and hover about four feet above their heads.

"Oh, well done!" Professor Flitwick squeaked. "Everyone see here, Miss Granger's done it!"

Hermione's success drove the other students to redouble their efforts, though the results varied - Harry eventually managed to get the feather to lift a few inches before it fell down again, but Seamus, who was working with Dean, managed to accidentally set their feather on fire, and Lavender and Parvati both blamed each other when their feather instead of floating turned a shocking shade of pink.

Neville, however, couldn't get the feather to do anything. He swished and flicked; he chanted _"Wingardium Leviosa!"_ again and again, in an increasingly frustrated voice, but the feather remained completely motionless.

Harry felt a twinge of regret for having paired up with Neville himself instead of insisting that Ronnie work with him; the girl had been a great help to Neville when he'd had similar problems during the secret flying lesson and could probably have helped him now as well. But as Ronnie at the moment was far too busy with her own feather to even notice Neville's current plight, it looked like it would be up to Harry.

He took a deep breath, trying to recall just what Ronnie had said to Neville during that flying lesson. "Listen, Neville -"

He didn't get any further, because just then, with a particularly loud _"WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!"_ from Neville that seemed to echo around the room, the feather quite unexpectedly rose up in the air and went higher than anyone else's. Neville stared up at it, then at his wand, his face a study in utter, delighted astonishment.

For about five seconds.

Suddenly, his face fell, and he turned around to look at Hermione, who was brandishing her own wand with an awkward look on her face.

"That was you, wasn't it?" he said in a monotone voice.

"You really almost had it," said Hermione, looking for all the world like a small child that had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "I just thought I'd... I mean..."

"Thank you, Hermione," said Neville, and then turned away from her, placed his wand down on the table, and looked down on his hands with an expression of complete devastation.

"No! Neville, I didn't mean - look, I know you can do it on your own, I just -" said Hermione helplessly.

"It's okay. Thank you. I appreciate your help." Neville's voice was dull, and he didn't look up.

For the rest of the lesson, despite Hermione's constantly whispered apologies and Harry's coaxing, he just sat there, never touching his wand or even looking up.

Professor Flitwick looked over at him several times, but didn't say anything. As the lesson ended, though, and the students raised themselves to leave the classroom, the tiny teacher jumped down from his stack of books and walked over to Neville.

"Longbottom," he squeaked. "I wonder if you'd join me for a cup of tea in my office? I have some books on Charms I think you might find helpful - helped me out a great deal when I was a student. Don't worry," he smiled to Harry, Ronnie and Hermione, who had gathered around them. "I won't keep him long. Off you go now!"

It was a somewhat subdued three-quarters of Potter's Gang who made their way down into the crowded corridor. Hermione looked incredibly guilty, and Ronnie, who had developed a bit of a protective instinct towards Neville, wasted no time in letting the other girl know what she thought.

"What'd you go and lift his feather for?" she said. "You know Neville has serious confidence problems! Doing his Levitation Charm for him, that's the same as outright telling him you think he's hopeless!"

"But I don't think he's hopeless," Hermione murmured. "I just thought that if I could make him believe that he'd _done _it..."

"How can someone be so _smart _and so _stupid _at the same time?" said Ronnie, getting seriously worked up. "How could you _possibly _think he wouldn't notice that it was you, he's not _deaf_, and that spell wasn't even nonverbal -"

"Don't yell at her," said Harry, trying to calm Ronnie down. "She feels bad enough already. Besides, Professor Flitwick's a decent bloke, I'm sure he can straighten things out."

"Oh. all right," said Ronnie. "But you still owe him an apology, Hermione."

Hermione nodded glumly.

To their surprise, Neville didn't turn up for the next class (though, since this class was History of Magic, Professor Binns didn't even notice that Neville wasn't there), and was mysteriously gone for the rest of the afternoon. He wasn't in the corridors, he wasn't in the Gryffindor common room, and he wasn't in the first-years' dormitory. It was when the time for the Halloween feast came rolling around that the rest of Potter's Gang really began to get worried about him.

The Great Hall looked incredible. The ceiling, usually bewitched to look exactly like the sky outside, now took the appearance of a stormy night sky, lightning flaring every so often. Hundreds of carved pumpkins, each one with a brilliantly-glowing candle in it, were floating above the tables, illuminating the room with a warm, orange glow - while a huge number of black bats flew around high above them, occasionally swooping down a little lower, making the candles in the pumpkins flicker and the shadows dance on the walls. As the students milled in, and the Gryffindors began gathering at the Gryffindor table, Neville was still strangely absent, though Professor Flitwick was cheerfully taking his place at the teacher's table.

"Longbottom's not here?" he said in a surprised voice when Harry went up to ask him about Neville. "Oh, dear, I never meant for him to miss the feast. I lent him a book on Charms, and he said he wanted to go somewhere private to practice his Levitation Charm... I suppose he must have lost track of time. Not to worry, Potter, I'll see if I can't find him."

With that, Flitwick excused himself and slid down from his chair, exiting the Great Hall.

Harry, feeling a little better, went back to the Gryffindor table to take a seat in between Hermione and Ronnie.

When they had all sat down, the feast appeared suddenly on the tables, just like it had during the welcoming banquet. It looked and smelled just as delicious as it had back then, too, and Harry used a bit of time to decide what he would try first.

He had just chosen a baked potato, when a sudden sharp noise from the end of the Hall made him look up. Professor Quirrell, whom Harry suddenly realised hadn't been present either, came running in, his turban askew and his face filled with terror.

"Troll!" he cried. (Almost instinctively, Harry's eyes went over to Malfoy and the Trolls at the Slytherin table, but they seemed as surprised as everyone else.) "Troll - in the dungeons!" He stopped in the middle of the hall, stared wildly around himself and then said, in a softer voice: "Thought you ought to know..." before collapsing down onto the floor in a dead faint.

As one, the students raised themselves from the tables, and the room exploded in screams and loud voices. They would all have trampled each other in blind panic in order to get out of the Hall, if Professor Dumbledore, at the teacher's table, hadn't got their attention by raising his wand and sending out several loudly exploding purple firecrackers.

"Prefects," he said, once again the steely, powerful wizard who could command crowds with a simple word. "Lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Percy, of course, took the lead at once. "Follow me!" he barked at the Gryffindors. "Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now - make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a Prefect!" (It would have been funny if the situation hadn't been so serious.)

Harry made his way in among the other first-years, bustling here and there, trying to follow the Prefects, when Ronnie suddenly grabbed his arm. "Neville!" she said. "Where's Neville?"

"I don't know," said Harry. "Professor Flitwick went to look for him."

"He doesn't know about the troll," said Ronnie. "He could be anywhere in the castle, and the troll might find him, and then -" she couldn't finish the sentence.

Hermione stopped next to them, guilt and fear on her face. "But if Flitwick -"

"Flitwick doesn't know about the troll either!" said Ronnie. "And what if he doesn't find Neville in time?"

"We have to go look for him!" said Harry.

Ronnie nodded. "Just so long as Percy doesn't see us going off."

"But what if the troll finds _us?"_ Hermione's voice had turned shrill.

"It won't," said Harry, patting the robe pocket where he kept his Invisibility Cloak.

Looks of understanding dawned on the two girls' faces.

They all ducked down and joined the Ravenclaws, who were going another way, following them for a bit before taking the first opportunity to break off from the group and slip down a side corridor, where Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak out of his pocket and unfolded it.

It was lucky that the Cloak was so big, because it covered all three of them quite easily - at least if they kept close together. Harry did worry a little that there was no way it would be big enough for four people at once, but, well, they'd just have to deal with that particular problem when they encountered it.

Now covered up and invisible to all, the trio moved down the corridors, trying to think of any place in the castle where Neville might have decided to practice his Charms in peace; an empty classroom, perhaps, or an unused corridor...

It was beginning to dawn on Harry what a hopeless task it was to look for someone in the Hogwarts castle when they had no idea even where to begin looking, and had started seriously questioning if this had been such a good idea after all, when they suddenly heard it - the low, guttural grunting and the low thudding of heavy footsteps.

They stopped and stood perfectly still. At the end of the passage to the right, a huge form appeared with loud, angry grunts and heavy movements. Harry heard Hermione let out a small gasp and felt Ronnie tense up beside him.

The troll was the biggest, ugliest, most frightening thing he had seen in his life. Twelve feet tall, with a grotesquely hulking body, long arms and short legs, and stony-grey skin. The head was small and bald, and constantly twisted around as if looking for something, and in one enormous hand was a gigantic wooden club. As the troll lumbered past them - luckily without seeing them - its awful smell whifted into their nostrils and made their eyes tear up, but they managed to stay silent until it had gone past.

The hideous creature turned, its long ears waggling as if it was trying to make its mind up about something, and then it walked down the left-hand corridor, the dull thuds of its footsteps slowly vanishing.

"I think," Ronnie whispered, slightly out of breath, "I think the troll has left the dungeon."

"I hope it hasn't met Neville," Harry whispered. "He wouldn't stand a chance against that!"

"Neither would we," said Hermione softly. "They're not very smart, but I've read that they're magic-resistant and frightfully strong. I just hope -"

Just then, there was a loud scream from the corridor the troll had vanished down. Harry's stomach turned - he knew that voice all too well.

"That was Neville!" he exclaimed.

Before they even knew it, or had the chance to ask themselves whether this really was a good idea, they were all running towards the sound of the scream. Harry had to clutch the Invisibility Cloak around them to keep it from falling off, something which made the running a little awkward - but the girls didn't seem to care.

There was another scream and a heavy thud. At the end of the corridor, the huge troll had a terrified-looking Neville backed up into a corner, and a mark in the stone wall showed that it had tried to strike the boy with its club, but had missed. Now it was raising its club again, and Neville pressed himself against the wall, looking close to panic.

Still under the Invisibility Cloak, Harry, Ronnie and Hermione skidded to a halt.

_"Oy! Pea-brain!" _Ronnie called out to the troll.

The troll stopped and slowly turned towards them, an expression of stupid puzzlement on its face as its eyes swiped through the corridor, unable to see the person who had spoken.

"Er, I am your conscience!" said Ronnie, trying to sound stern. "You are a bad troll! It is not nice to go hitting people who are smaller than you, and you should let that poor boy go at once! Remember what your dear old Mum told you about - _AIIIEEEE!"_ The rest of her improvised lecture vanished in a terrified shriek as the troll turned sharply about and began swinging its club wildly, apparently hoping to hit the voice it couldn't see.

The invisible trio could feel the wind from the club as it just barely missed them, and Hermione, who was closest, instinctively pulled back, bumping hard into Ronnie, who reached out and grabbed Harry's robe as she lost her balance. All three of them went over, falling down and ending up in a heap on the floor with Harry on the bottom. The Cloak partially slid off them, enough for the troll to spot their exposed legs on the floor - and the troll (apparently wasn't the type to stop and question why disembodied legs were appearing out of nowhere) gleefully raised its club again.

_"WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!"_

All of a sudden, the club lifted up and flew out of the troll's hand, floating up towards the ceiling. The troll stopped and looked up, trying to grab for it, but the club had already floated up beyond its reach and was now hovering just underneath the high ceiling.

Harry managed to get to his feet to see Neville stand there with his wand out, looking at the floating club with an expression of awed disbelief, as if he couldn't quite fathom that he'd just pulled off the most powerful Levitation Charm of any first-year.

"Nice going, Neville!" Harry cried - and then wished he hadn't, because this broke Neville's concentration and sent the club plummeting down to the floor.

_"Wingardium Leviosa!" _came Hermione's voice from beside Harry, and the club stopped in mid-air and shot back up towards the ceiling.

The troll jumped and swung its arms at the club, roaring in frustration as it failed to retrieve its weapon. For the moment, it seemed like the creature had forgotten the children and was focused purely on trying to get the club back.

Realising that this little game of "keep-away" would only keep the troll distracted for so long, Harry rushed past the troll and up to Neville, who was still standing there and looking at the floating club in what looked to be a complete stupor.

"Come on," he said, grabbing the boy's hand and pulling him along. _"Run, girls!_"

Harry and Neville darted back past the troll, and then they were joined by Hermione in running for their lived down the corridor. A pair of extra running footsteps and a flash of red hair that immediately vanished revealed that Ronnie was joining them as well, but was still under the Invisibility Cloak.

"Get under the Cloak, Harry," she panted. "All of you!"

"No room for all of us under it!" Harry managed to say. "Just run!"

They did, hearing the grunts and roars of the troll behind them. Harry didn't risk turning back to see what it was doing - but now he heard thundering footsteps behind him and knew that with or without the club, the troll had decided to chase after them.

So they ran, barely looking where they were going, rushing up the first staircase they came to. The sound of the thundering footsteps behind them grew slightly fainter, as if the troll couldn't quite keep up, but they didn't dare to slow down.

Not looking where you're going, however, has the unfortunate side-effect of often ending up in places where you really don't want to be - and Potter's Gang, fleeing blindly, suddenly found themselves in a dead end; they'd run into a corridor that ended rather abruptly, finding themselves between the approaching troll and a thick stone wall.

"That door!" Hermione heaved for her breath, pointing at a door at the end of the corridor. "Hurry!"

They ran up to the door, and Harry tore it open, hurrying the others through before going through himself and slamming it shut behind him.

Neville collapsed to the floor, breathing heavily, and Ronnie's head - the only part of her that was visible - slammed against the wall, looking red and almost delirious, before it too vanished under the Invisibility Cloak.

Hermione, however, while looking like she was about to collapse herself, pulled her wand out again and motioned it towards the door. _"Colloportus!" _she said, almost breathlessly, and the door locked itself with an odd squelching sound. "Locking charm - troll won't - get us now," she panted.

Harry leaned against the wall, breathing out. His heart was racing in his chest and his throat hurt slightly from heaving for his breath, but it was okay now, they were safe -

- and then he heard Neville's voice, a terrified, soft squeak. "Oh, _no..."_

Harry opened his eyes and realised that at once that they weren't safe at all, but had managed to stumble into an even bigger danger.

Right there, in front of them, was the biggest, most monstrous-looking dog he had ever seen. So big that it filled the whole space between ceiling and floor, and with _three heads. _Three angry-looking, snarling heads with sharp, yellowed, enormous fangs.

The door hadn't led to a room like they'd thought, but to another corridor. To be more precise, it led to a certain third-floor corridor, the very same one that during the welcoming banquet had been declared forbidden by Dumbledore for anyone who didn't "wish to die a very painful death."

Now they knew exactly what he had meant by that.

Two of the dog's heads snarled at them, but the third was looking another way, snapping at something Harry couldn't see, and it was clear that the only reason why it hadn't attacked yet was because it didn't know which direction to attack first.

"N-nice doggie," said Neville, his voice still high-pitched. "Hermione, open the door!_ Open the door!"_

"The _troll's_ on the other side of the door," Hermione panted,.

"Great!" Harry gulped, taking a step back. "Choose your death; clubbed by troll or eaten by monster dog!"

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Another cliffhanger! What will happen next? Well, come next chapter, we'll see if we can find out (I've already started writing chapter eight, so hopefully it should be a shorter wait this time).

Harry's Invisibility Cloak is one of those things that he, and we, perhaps get a little too used to in canon; in the end it's little more than a convenient way of going about unseen. It's all too easy to forget the awe it's treated with in its first appearance, and how rare and valuable even normal Invisibility Cloaks are in the wizarding world. It was fun trying to recreate some of the feeling of almost reverence from a Potter's Gang to whom the Cloak is something completely new and awesome.

Even if things are changing for Harry and friends, the plot that goes on behind the scenes is the same as in canon, and there was no reason to believe Quirrell's Halloween stunt wouldn't still take place - and I knew that if I was going to include the "Troll in the dungeon" scene, I had to include a part where Harry and friends face the troll. And things sort of went from there.


	8. I Wish I Was Dead!

**Told you the wait wouldn't be as long for this chapter - I had some extra time and some extra inspiration, so I finished this chapter in less than a week! Let's re-join Potter's Gang and see how they tackle Fluffy... **

**(By the way, the author's note at the end contains a question for my readers concerning the future of this story. I'd be grateful if you weighed in with your opinions here.)**

* * *

**WEASLEY GIRL**

**Based on the _Harry Potter_ books by J. K. Rowling**

* * *

**CHAPTER EIGHT  
****"I Wish I Was Dead!"**

* * *

It truly looked like Potter's Gang had managed to get out of the frying pan only to throw themselves headfirst into the fire - the troll had been bad enough, but the three-headed dog looked like it ate trolls for breakfast. With three mouths.

The dog snarled at them, two of its heads baring their enormous teeth at them, while the third one still ignored them and stared angrily into the shadows to one side. Harry's mind raced; something was there, something that kept the dog from attacking them on the spot; they had to do something quick before it made up its mind -

Then, Ronnie's head and part of her body came back into sight, the Invisibility Cloak parting around her and sliding down to the floor to reveal her in full. Her hair was a mess and her face paler than ever, but she looked strangely calm, looking up at the dog and speaking in a soft, soothing voice.

"Hello," she said. "Did we intrude on your territory? I'm so sorry, we didn't mean to. It's all right, we're friendly, see?"

One of the dog's heads perked up at the sound of her voice. The growls softened a little, and the while the second head was still glaring suspiciously at Harry, Neville and Hermione, and the third head was still glaring in a different direction, the first head slowly moved towards Ronnie to sniff her outstretched hand. Tentatively, Ronnie reached up and stroked the enormous nose.

"I don't believe this," said Hermione in a voice that suggested that she was half a second away from panicking. "She's _petting _it...! And it's _letting _her!"

Harry swallowed several times, trying to get his breath back under control. He was a hundred percent certain that if he, Neville or Hermione had tried anything like this with the dog, they'd be dead - but for Ronnie, it somehow worked. Just like it had with the Thestrals, even if this dog was clearly ten times worse.

"Don't panic... Don't panic," said Ronnie soothingly. She was looking at the dog, but her words were clearly meant for Hermione. "Be calm. Never run or shout or scream when you're dealing with animals, especially ones you don't know. Harry, Neville, Hermione..." she added, still in a calm and soothing voice. "Get behind me. Slowly. I think this head at least likes me, but I can't vouch for the other two."

The dog was calmer now. The head being stroked by Ronnie had stopped growling, thought the other two still looked somewhat agitated, and Harry was fairly sure that it wouldn't take much for all three heads to decide to attack.

Slowly, careful so as not to make any sudden moves that might upset the giant beast, Harry, Neville and Hermione moved up behind Ronnie.

"Poor little thing," said Ronnie, using the word 'little' without any apparent irony, "locked up here, all alone... No wonder you're grouchy. You should be running free in the Forbidden Forest. Who could be so mean as to do this to you?"

"Ronnie," said Hermione softly, seeming only a little calmer once she was behind the other girl. "I think it's a guard dog. Look, it's standing on a trapdoor. It must be here to prevent people from going down that trapdoor."

"Oh, so you're on the job, are you?" said Ronnie. "Well, then, I hope they give you plenty of food and -"

She was cut off by a sudden noise from outside, a thump and an angry roar that revealed that the troll had caught up to them. The dog raised all three of its heads and looked towards the door, growling threateningly. Several more thuds followed, and the locked door shook as the troll apparently took its frustrations out on the obstacle.

And then, without any warning, Harry's scar exploded in pain. He gasped and clutched his forehead, biting his tongue to avoid screaming out, and desperately trying to keep his balance in between the loud thrashing of the troll and the increasing growls of the dog.

"Harry - Harry, _no -!"_ Hermione hissed, grabbing him and trying to keep him steady.

Through his pain, Harry could hear more noises from outside the door, another, angrier roar... And then, for some reason, running footsteps and a muffled cry. Once again, the pain faded as suddenly as it had come, and his head cleared again. He steadied himself and blinked, looking around at the others. Hermione looked at him with concern, while Neville looked like he wasn't sure whether he should be more worried about Harry, the dog, or the troll, and Ronnie was dividing her attention between Harry and the dog.

The dog was still growling, looking towards the locked door with all three heads, as if daring whoever was out there to come in and fight, but there was a weird commotion out there, with the troll roaring again, and a high-pitched voice shouting something Harry couldn't quite make out. Then, there were two more thuds, one small and one large... And then, everything went quiet.

"Harry, what -" Neville began, but Harry just shook his head.

Taking a nervous glance at the dog (who seemed to be ignoring him for the moment), Harry pressed an ear against the door and listened.

At first, he couldn't hear anything, but then all of a sudden, he heard the unmistakable voice of Professor Flitwick. "Would you please tell me what is going on, Severus?! What on earth is a mountain troll doing here? Goodness, quite an ugly brute, isn't it? I do hope I didn't kill it. They are magic resistant, you know, so the only thing I could think of was to enchant the club."

Harry blinked. Professor Flitwick, the tiniest man in school, had just defeated that huge troll?

He didn't really have time to reflect on how astonishing this really was, because now, the cold tones of Harry's least favorite teacher at Hogwarts sounded: "I believe it is just unconscious." There was a strange edge to Snape's voice, as if he wasn't certain whether he should be impressed or annoyed. "I take it you missed Professor Quirrell's little scene down in the Great Hall?"

"Quirinius?" said Flitwick. "I haven't seen him since breakfast. He hadn't arrived yet when I left the Great Hall - what happened?"

"That," said Snape, "I am still trying to work out." There was a slight pause, before he continued: "But I did have a hunch that something would be going on up here, and that it would be prudent to check while all the other teachers were scouring the dungeons for trolls. Evidently, I was right."

"You don't think the troll was sent here to fetch - no, that's ridiculous!" said Flitwick, cutting himself off before he got around to saying what the troll might have been sent to fetch.

"I think the troll was a distraction," said Snape. "I suggest you go and find Professor Dumbledore and the other teachers. I will watch the troll in the meantime."

Harry pulled back from the door as Flitwick's tiny footsteps hurried away. He turned to his friends, ready to tell them what he had heard, when two of the dog's heads suddenly turned and snarled at the shadows.

It was then Harry realised it: Someone else was in there with them. Someone hiding in the shadows, possibly using magic to protect themselves from the dog but lacking Ronnie's ability to befriend animals - and if Snape's words could be trusted, that very same someone had probably let the troll into the school while they themselves tried to get past this dog in order to get... what? What was the dog guarding?

He cast a glance at his friends. He had to let them know that they weren't alone, but he wasn't too keen on letting whoever it was in on the fact that he knew - then again, the dog was still growling with two heads towards the shadows, so...

Before he could make up his mind about it, a voice sounded from the darkness, and it was possibly the last voice Harry would have expected: "W-W-W-Weasley? Wh-wh-whatever charm you've p-p-placed on the dog, p-p-please keep it up! I d-d-don't think my protection charm will h-h-hold out for m-m-much longer!"

"Professor Quirrell?!" Harry exclaimed.

"Y-yes," Quirrel's voice sounded. "P-please don't let that dog kill me!"

One of the dog's heads snapped towards the sound of the voice, and then the teacher came into sight, falling out of the shadows - turban askew, robes torn, body trembling as he dropped to the floor and let out a squeak of terror. The dog's head snarled and was about to go for a second attack, when Ronnie's voice called out: "No no no, it's okay, it's okay! Calm down, look, everything's all right, we're all friends here! Nice boy!"

The head turned to look at Ronnie, and now the dog turned slowly to look at the girl with all six of its eyes. A long moment passed, and then the dog slowly relaxed as Ronnie once again began petting the head closest to her. Two heads still looked around suspiciously at everyone who wasn't Ronnie, as if warning them that if anyone made one false move it would be all over them - and then it began wagging its tail, gazing adoringly at the girl with the one head that was being petted.

"Professor Quirrell, what are you doing here?" Harry whispered, staying as still as possible so that the dog wouldn't believe he was making any sort of false move.

"I, er, I w-was hiding from the troll - I, I, I mean, I was t-trying to protect - I mean, I mean -" Quirrell stuttered and then looked up, his eyes focusing on Ronnie. "N-n-nice charm, whatever it is," he added hurriedly, "H-how did you manage to calm the, the, the...?"

"It's not a charm," said Ronnie, halfway nervous and halfway embarrassed. "It's just that, er, most animals tend to like me. Lucky that this one seems to be one of them... I think we're all right long as we don't annoy him too much, or try to get to that trapdoor."

"R-really?" Quirrell's eyes widened. "Th-that's, er, interesting. G-good to know."

Harry swallowed again. There was something wrong about this. Why would Quirrell be here? Had he panicked and ran here by mistake to get away for the troll, was he telling the truth about wanting to protect something, or...?

Something fell into place inside Harry's head.

"It was you," he said to Quirrell. "You're the shadow bloke! You were the one we met in the Forbidden Forest!"

"What?!" said Quirrell, sounding surprised.

"I thought it was Snape - we all thought it was Snape. Even the way my scar began hurting... But every time it did, _you _just happened to be there!" Harry couldn't believe he hadn't seen it before. "You thrashed the Potions classroom and then came running to Snape, pretending to have just discovered it... Just so you could get him out of his office! You were the one who made that shelf collapse! You even let the troll in, just to create a panic! _You tried to kill us!"_

"Harry, are you mental?" said Ronnie, still stroking the dog's head.

But Quirrell smiled. A change came over him; he stopped shivering and quaking and raised his head a little more, slowly (and under the watchful eye of the dog) standing up. "Well done, Potter," he said in a voice completely unlike his normal, nervous stuttering. "You're not as stupid as I thought you were. Too bad nobody will believe you - after all, with teachers like Severus around, who would ever dream of suspecting p-p-poor st-st-stuttering P-P-Professor Quirrell of anything?"

"But -" said Hermione in a small voice.

"Impressive control over the dog, Weasley," Quirrell continued calmly. "It's true, then, animals do love you... I bet it would obey your every command. If you ordered it to bite me in half, it would do so without hesitation. You wouldn't even have to stop petting that one head... after all, one set of fangs is all that's needed. Of course... the dog would have to be put down after that. You've grown up in the wizarding world, you know as well as I do what happens to a beast that kills a human."

Ronnie whimpered. The dog nuzzled her hand and wagged its tail sympathetically.

"Can you do it, Weasley? Can you turn the dog into a killer?" said Quirrell.

"That dog is already a killer," said Neville, gulping. "If Ronnie hadn't been here, it would have killed us all by now!"

"But she is, and it hasn't," said Quirrell. "But she can change that if she wants to. How about it, Weasley? Do you want the dog's death on your conscience? Do you want _my _death on your conscience?"

Ronnie shook her head. As if to comfort herself and hide from the awful situation around herself, she wrapped her arms around the dog's head and buried her face in its fur. The dog let her do it, the one head surprisingly gentle even as the other two were still eyeing everyone else suspiciously.

"What a surprise," came a sudden, silky-soft voice from behind them, and as Harry almost without wanting to turned to look, he saw Snape came stepping in through the now-open door, his black eyes glittering maliciously. "I hear voices from the forbidden corridor, and what do I find? Potter's Gang, up to their necks in trouble - and Professor Quirrell."

"Ah, Severus." If Quirrell was surprised, he didn't show it - nor did he show the terror he'd displayed of Snape earlier. "Come in. Don't worry about the dog, Weasley has it under control."

"You've certainly changed your tune, Quirrell," said Snape. "Finally decided to drop the pretense and show your true colours? Tell me, what's the occasion?"

"I don't know if you should talk too loudly about true colours," said Quirrell. "How did you get Dumbledore to hire you as a teacher? Especially as _Potter's_ teacher, after what you did to his parents."

Harry felt a sharp, sinking sensation in his stomach, even as Snape drew a sharp breath and turned even paler than usual.

"Dumbledore will be here any minute," the Potions master said coldly. "Together with the other teachers. They will be _quite _interested in seeing you."

"I'd better talk fast, then," said Quirrell calmly. "Potter - did you know that Severus Snape is responsible for the death of your parents?"

_"What?!"_ Harry's voice was joined by the voices of Hermione, Neville and even Ronnie, who had pulled her face out of the dog's fur and was staring at Snape. The dog, sensing the tension, growled at Snape.

"Oh, yes," said Quirrell. "Severus went to school with your parents, Potter. Everyone knows it, but nobody wants to tell you. He and your father _loathed _each other. Perhaps no surprise, then, that when they left school, your parents joined the fight against the Dark Lord while Severus... now, _Severus _went and became a Death Eater."

Before Harry could wonder what a Death Eater was (probably nothing nice, given the name), Snape had his wand out. His hand shook with rage as he pointed the wand at Quirrell. "Shut - up!" he snarled, only barely managing to keep his voice steady.

"Touched a nerve, have I?" said Quirrell. "Everyone knows you were right in the Dark Lord's inner circle, Severus - and I'd be careful with pointing your wand around if I were you. You'll upset the dog, and I don't think even Weasley could stop it from attacking you if it got angry enough."

Snape snarled almost as loudly as the dog did, but lowered his wand.

Harry only vaguely noticed it at this point, because the black pit in his stomach was threatening to swallow him up. The faces of his parents, such as they had appeared to him in the Mirror of Esired, flashed before his inner eye; parents that Harry would never get to know _because of Snape..._

"How?" he demanded. "How is Snape responsible for the deaths of my parents?"

"You do not know what you're talking about, Potter," Snape growled. "For that matter, neither does he!"

"I know more than you think," said Quirrell. "I have a very reliable source of information."

And then, a high, ice-cold voice spoke, a voice that made Harry's blood run cold: _"Indeed, Severus... indeed..." _It was a voice Harry would never forget; the same voice that he had heard from the shadowed figure in the Forbidden forest, and it seemed to be coming from Quirrell... though the teacher's mouth wasn't moving.

Snape's eyebrows raised in shocked surprise, Neville and Hermione both gasped, and even the dog began growling again, directing its suspicions towards Quirrell.

_"It has been such a long time..."_ the ice-cold voice continued. _"But I remember... Oh yes, I remember... Thwarted by a boy, reduced to a shadow, less than a shadow of my former self... but I held on. Did you think I died, Severus...? I, who had gone longer than any other mortal man in conquering death...?"_

Harry hadn't thought the black pit in his stomach could have grown any deeper or blacker, but now discovered just how wrong he'd been - because now he knew with absolute certainty that this voice belonged to none other than his parents' killer, the man all wizards feared even so long after his disappearance, the reason Harry had the lightning-bolt scar on his forehead... somehow, he didn't know how, Voldemort was here in the room with them.

Snape seemed to have reached the same conclusion. "The Dark Lord..." he said, his voice even softer than usual and his face completely unreadable. "Dumbledore always did say you would find a way to return."

_"And he was right," _said the voice of Voldemort. _"I do apologise for not showing myself fully, Severus... I fear I am in a somewhat... reduced state at the moment... But Quirrell has generously agreed to be... my body... for the time being..."_

"I am the Dark Lord's eyes and ears," said Quirrell, his voice strange. "I am his hands, his form. Where I go, he goes. Where he goes, I go."

"That," said Snape tonelessly, looking at Quirrell, then at Potter's Gang, and then back at Quirrell, "explains a great deal. I knew _something_ was going on with you, but I never suspected this."

Voldemort chuckled; a high and bone-chilling sound. _"Don't feel bad, Severus... no-one expected, not even the great Dumbledore himself. You know what I want... you know what the dog is guarding. And you were once my faithful servant... I have not forgotten this... Lord Voldemort is capable of great mercy, even to those who failed him... and will reward those who aid him. Join me once more, help me attain my goal... and be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams!"_

_"NO!"_ Ronnie suddenly shrieked, as if she was snapping out of a trance and going straight into panic mode. "Kill him! _Kill him!"_ she screamed, pointing in Quirrell's direction.

The dog, who had been growling at Quirrell since Voldemort's voice began sounding, sprang into action. It leapt on Quirrell with its fangs bared, while another of the heads snapped at Snape for good measure.

As Snape fell back, Harry felt like he snapped out of a trance. _"Run!"_ he shouted, grabbing the now-hyperventilating Ronnie and dragging her with him towards the door. Only seconds later, Hermione and Neville were there as well, and together they managed to haul Ronnie out the door, as the sounds of snarling and screams and sounds of a carnage behind them grew louder.

Hermione slammed the door shut behind them, muffling the horrible sounds.

They were back in the first corridor, greeted by the rather unpleasant sight of the troll lying sprawled out on the floor with its club next to it. After just having met first the three-headed dog and then Voldemort, though, it seemed rather less scary than it had. Besides, whatever Flitwick had done to it seemed to have rendered it unconscious for the moment.

They stood there for a moment, uncertain on whether to keep running or not.

"Well," said Ronnie in a monotone voice, "that was fun. Let's never do it again."

Harry vaguely remembered her having said the exact same thing after their outing in the Forbidden Forest. "Ronnie..." he began.

She ignored him and began shaking. "At least I made sure that dog'll get a nice meal. Nicely matured - vintage Dark Lord - with sautéed Potions master - for afterwards!" And then she burst out laughing. "Let's - let's throw the troll to it as well - make a nice dessert!" she managed to squeak out between her fits of laughing.

"That's not funny -" Hermione began in a shaky voice, but stopped when she saw the expression on Ronnie's face.

The girl was heaving for her breath, shaking violently with uncontrollable laughter, and now she'd started crying as well, tears streaming down her face and huge blubbering sobs beginning to bubble up between the laughs.

"I wish I was dead!" she sobbed.

Harry felt an awful lot like breaking down and crying as well, and a quick look at Neville and Hermione revealed that they weren't too far behind. Hermione had tears in her eyes and Neville was shivering and pale as a sheet, opening and closing his mouth a few times without making a sound. It looked like it would have to be up to him.

Tentatively, he placed a hand on the Ronnie's shoulder. "Look," he said. "You shouldn't -" And then he stopped in mid-sentence, because he had no idea where he was even going with this.

To his immense relief, that was when the teachers appeared, with Dumbledore leading them, and Flitwick and McGonagall following right behind - and making up the rear and lumbering over everyone else was Hagrid.

"Harry?" said Hagrid, looking surprised as Harry met his eyes.

"What is going on here?" said Professor McGonagall sharply. "Potter - Granger - Longbottom - Weasley! _What _are you doing here?!"

"Where is Professor Snape?" said Flitwick.

Ronnie was still sobbing, and Neville was still opening and closing his mouth, unable to say anything. Hermione, however, raised a hand and pointed to the closed door. "In there," she said. "Together with Professor Quirrell and - and a three-headed dog. And - and - "

"Voldemort!" Harry exclaimed. "Voldemort is there! Somehow! With Quirrell!"

As one, the teachers gave a start; Flitwick almost dropping his wand in astonishment and McGonagall's face twisting into an expression of stunned disbelief.

"You-Know-Who?" she said, clearly trying to regain her composure. _"Here?_ Nonsense, Potter!"

Dumbledore, however, took a step towards Harry; he didn't look shocked or disbelieving, but urgency and worry were clear in his eyes. "Are you certain, Harry?" he said. "Did you see him?"

"No, but I heard him. We all did." Harry looked at his friends, who all nodded in support. "I think he's somehow possessing Quirrell... Said something about Quirrel being his body for now."

"It was this high, cold voice..." Hermione shuddered. "It was horrible. It talked to Snape, and... The dog..."

"You-Know-Who is in there with Fluffy?" Hagrid made his way past the other adults and towards the closed door. "Hang on, Fluffy! Daddy's comin'!"

"Hagrid!" said Dumbledore before the huge man could tear the door open. "Be careful!" He turned to look at the others. "Stay out here, and make certain the troll does not wake up. Hagrid and I will go in."

Hagrid opened the door and squeezed himself in through it, closely followed by Dumbledore. Both men vanished into the darkness, and an eerie silence followed in which the ones remaining outside could do nothing but stare in horror at the door. Even Ronnie had stopped crying and had grabbed hold of Hermione, clutching her tightly as she stared.

_"...Fluffy?"_ said Neville, apparently having found his voice again. "That dog's named - ? Someone please tell me this is all a horrible dream."

"This is all a horrible dream," said Harry, who was starting to wonder if it might be - Snape and Quirrell and Voldemort and trolls and three-headed monster dogs named Fluffy, it all seemed like something out of a bizarre nightmare.

"No, Potter, this is not a dream!" said McGonagall, shattering Harry's desperate hopes that he'd soon wake up in the Gryffindor common room. "This is all too real - even parts of it is unbelievable - You-Know-Who, here at Hogwarts, indeed -"

Just then, Dumbledore re-appeared in the doorway, looking unhurt but even more worried than before. "They are gone," he said.

Ronnie let out a loud wail. "I killed them! I told the dog to kill them and it ate them and _I'm a murderer!"_

"Miss Weasley!" Dumbledore raised his voice to be heard over her wails. "You are not a murderer! I said they were _gone_, not that they were _dead!" _

Ronnie stopped in mid-wail, her eyes widening and her tear-streaked face betraying the storm of conflicting emotions that were raging within her. "They're - not dead?" she said in a hoarse, cracked voice.

"Merely gone, as I said," Dumbledore replied soothingly. "There was some blood on the floor, but nowhere near as much as there would have been, had the dog eaten them - so the only explanation is that one, or both, of them, were injured, but they somehow managed to escape."

Professor Flitwick raised both his eyebrows. "Did they go down the trapdoor?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I think not. The trapdoor had not been opened - Fluffy guarded that rather too well."

_"Fluffy..."_ Neville muttered, shaking his head as if this was the most unbelievable thing about the entire ordeal.

"Indeed," said Dumbledore, nodding to Neville, and for a brief moment there was a hint of the normal twinkle in his eyes. "Don't let that name deceive you, Neville - he takes his job as a guard dog very seriously. Hagrid is taking care of him as we speak." Then, he grew serious again. "But there must have been another exit in that corridor, one we did not know about."

"There are no other exits from that room!" said McGonagall firmly. "We made certain to check!"

"My dear Minerva," said Dumbledore with a sigh, "you know as well as I do that Hogwarts holds too many secrets for any one person to discover. Even I, after having called the castle my home for over sixty years, do not know all of them. Perhaps the other exit only shows itself to someone whose life is in danger, or when certain words are spoken. In any case, they are both gone." He turned to Potter's Gang. "We must do all in our power to find them, of course - but first, I must ask the four of you to tell me exactly what happened."

Naturally, it was Hermione who ended up telling most of the story. She kept it brief and to the point; how she, Harry and Ronnie had gone to look for Neville under the Invisibility Cloak, how they had encountered and run from the troll, how they had ended up at the forbidden corridor by accident, and how Ronnie's talent with animals had kept Fluffy from harming them.

Harry helped her out by adding a few details that she left out of her story, and had to take over a few times, when Hermione's voice wavered at certain points, such as the description of Voldemort's voice and the revelation of Snape.

"Quirrell said Snape was responsible for the deaths of my parents," said Harry. "And Voldemort said Snape used to be his servant!"

He hadn't really known what sort of reaction he had expected from Dumbledore at this revelation, but strangely enough, the old wizard didn't show much of a reaction at all. "I believe we need to talk, Harry," he said. "There are a lot of things you need to be told - but not here, and not now. There are too many urgent matters that demand out attentions. You said you had your Invisibility Cloak. Where is it?"

Harry suddenly realised that in the sheer confusion, he had forgotten all about the Cloak. "Er - Ronnie had it," he said. "But it fell off her. It must still be in there, on the floor."

"I did not see it," said Dumbledore. "I will look again - it may be that I've missed it - but if it truly is gone, Harry, this could quite possibly mean that Quirrell, and by extension Voldemort, now has your Invisibility Cloak."

Harry gulped. He could all too well imagine all the uses an evil wizard might have for an Invisibility Cloak. "That's not good," he said.

"It may be worse than you think," said Dumbledore gravely. "And with Voldemort roaming around the castle unseen, we are all in danger - particularly you and Miss Weasley."

"Me?" Ronnie squeaked. "Why me?"

Dumbledore turned to face her. "Voldemort now knows of your gift with animals," he said. "He has seen you calm down a guard dog that would have killed all of you as soon as look at you - and he very much wants the object that the dog is guarding. Simply put, he will see you as his key to getting past it. We shall of course tighten the security - but I think you need to be aware of the danger nonetheless."

Ronnie swallowed, but then straightened herself. "I'd never help You-Know-Who with anything!" she said. "I'm a Weasley! There's never been a Dark Weasley before, and I'm not gonna be the first!"

"I believe you," said Dumbledore. "But even in his reduced state, Voldemort has methods for making others cooperate. Stronger wizards and witches than you have fallen to his power - you need only to look at Professor Quirrell to realise that."

"Quirrell? But he's -" Hermione began, then apparently decided not to continue that particular statement. "How is You-Know-Who controlling him? Possession? But that doesn't make any sense, how could he make his own voice sound like that without Quirrell moving his mouth -?"

"I do not know yet," said Dumbledore. "But the bigger question is why, after what must have months of successfully concealing his presence, Voldemort chose that moment to reveal himself? He must have had a reason for it."

_"Months?"_ said Harry. "You mean - you mean he's been with Quirrell the _entire time?"_

"I did not want to believe it, but it explains too much," said Dumbledore. "But," he suddenly added in a stronger voice, "we have no time for speculation now. Minerva, please take the children to the Gryffindor common room. All students are to stay in their respective common rooms until further notice."

McGonagall nodded. "Come along, you four!"

"We _will _talk," said Dumbledore at Harry's reluctant look. "But for now, I have two teachers and one Dark Lord to look for. Be safe, Potter's Gang."

It was the first time he had used their collective nickname.

* * *

McGonagall was rather grim-faced as she escorted Potter's Gang back to the common room. While she had been the first one to declare the idea of Voldemort's appearance to be nonsense, she apparently trusted Dumbledore's judgment on the issue enough that she was willing to accept the story

It didn't mean she was going to be gracious about it, though.

"This is madness," she muttered. "Absolute madness. Quirrell, working for You-Know-Who, and Snape going with him."

"Dumbledore didn't seem all that surprised when we told him about Voldemort," said Harry carefully.

"Ever since You-Know-Who vanished, the Headmaster has been of the firm belief that he would one day make a return," said McGonagall. "He tends to get extra concerned around Halloween. In fact, Potter," she added, looking at him, "This very day marks the ten-year anniversary of his disappearance."

"That's right!" Hermione sounded astonished. "I can't believe I didn't _think _of that. All the books say that Voldemort was vanquished on Halloween. Harry - that means that it was _exactly _ten years since, well, since you saw him last!"

Neville gasped. "It has to be almost down to the hour!" he said, sounding about as astonished as Hermione. "That can't be a coincidence, can it?"

"Whether it is or not," said McGonagall brusquely, "I would advice the four of you to not speak too loudly of this, at least until the Headmaster can make a formal announcement. It would cause a panic. And you would do well to _not _use that name among people."

Hermione looked up at her, and there was a hint of defiance in her eyes. "Professor Dumbledore told me to call him Voldemort. He said that fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself."

"That may well be, Miss Granger," said McGonagall, "but you will do yourself no favours getting people agitated by speaking the name unnecessarily."

"But -"

"You are too young to understand what it was like back in those days," said McGonagall, not unkindly. "You-Know-Who gathering followers in any way possible, not knowing who you could trust, knowing that they could strike at any time. I pray that you will never truly find out what it was like...though if You-Know-Who is here in the castle with an Invisibility Cloak, you may just get a taste of that feeling sooner than either of us would like."

"Professor McGonagall," said Harry. "Was it true what Quirrell and Voldem - what You-Know-Who said about Snape? Did he really cause the death of my parents? Was he You-Know-Who's servant?"

McGonagall didn't answer at first. Then, unexpectedly, she turnes to the left and said: "_Pig snout!"_

Harry blinked at the non-sequitur, before realising that they had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady that hid the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, and McGonagall had just spoken the password.

As the painting swung aside to reveal the entrance to the common room, McGonagall waved for the children to hurry through, while positioning herself right behind them. "Just making certain nobody _invisible _follows you though," she said in a low voice, before swinging the portrait shut and separating herself from them.

Harry turned back to look at the wall behind them, but McGonagall did not come through, and he realised to his disappointment that he wasn't going to get any answers for the moment.

"Why won't any of the teachers answer any of our questions about Snape?" he lamented.

"I suppose I could write and ask Dad," Ronnie said softly. "He works for the Ministry, he was one of the people who sorted out You-Know-Who's followers, which of them were serving willingly and which of them had been in his power... Blimey," she added, swallowing and suddenly looking scared. "He's really here. This is really happening."

They stood in silence for a while. At the other end of the short stone hallway, they could see into the circular common room, where a cosy fire burned in the fireplace and all the Gryffindor students were gathered around tables and in the stuffed armchairs, talking to one another and eating - the food from the Halloween feast must have been brought up to the common rooms. The smells of all the skilfully-made foods would normally have made Harry feel hungry, but right now the mere thought of food made his stomach turn.

"I'll tell you what's worse," said Neville. "If we hadn't happened to stumble across the forbidden corridor today, Quirrell would probably never have found a way to get past Fluff - _that dog._ He wouldn't have met Snape either."

"Voldemort wouldn't have revealed himself, though," said Hermione. "None of us would have had any idea that possessing Quirrell - or whatever it is he's done to him. At least now Dumbledore knows..."

"But thanks to us, Voldemort has the Invisibility Cloak," said Harry glumly. "We all but _delivered _him one of the most useful tools he could have for skulking about unseen. He could go anywhere, strike at any time, and nobody'll ever see him coming!"

"It was my fault," said Neville. "If I hadn't been such an idiot in Charms class and gone off to practice on my own, we wouldn't even have been near that corridor."

"No, no, it was _my _fault!" said Hermione. "I was the one who showed you up in class."

"You didn't, you tried to help me," said Neville. "I should have handled it better -"

"I should have found a better way of helping you," Hermione insisted. "I hurt your feelings, and -"

"None of you could have known what was going to happen!" Harry interrupted. "I was the one who insisted we go look for Neville ourselves -"

"I was the one who wanted to kill Quirrell!" Ronnie hissed. "And I was the one who showed You-Know-Who a way to get past Fluffy!"

They looked at each other.

"Well," Ronnie finally said, "at least we can all agree that this was not Potter's Gang's finest hour."

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

* * *

**Author's notes: **It's really amazing how a story can spin out of control and take an entirely different turn than you'd expected. This chapter especially kept changing direction as I wrote it, and as a result the story changed direction as well - in fact, things have taken a sharp turn for the worse for Potter's Gang. That's all I'll say on that subject for now.

I did, however, want to ask all you readers out there for your opinion on something regarding the future of this story: I'm definitely planning on continuing into Harry's second year at Hogwarts and probably beyond (whether I'll do all seven years or not I really haven't decided yet), but I can't quite make up my mind on how I should go on about posting it.

So, what do you think, should I continue posting subsequent years/books as new chapters to this story, making it one long fic - or should I break the story up into separate, shorter fics, based on the individual year/book?

Part of why I'm asking is that I'm toying with the idea of having a different POV character for each year/book. Harry is the POV character for the _Philosopher's Stone_ part, and I'm thinking Ronnie will be the POV character for the _Chamber of Secrets_ equivalent, then maybe Hermione for the third year and Neville for the fourth. This isn't 100% decided, but I was worried that if I did it like that, it might feel a little jarring to the reader if it was all posted as one long fic.

But I can see pros and cons to both approaches, so... anyone have any ideas/comments/questions/advice?


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